


Perk Up

by Scruffy_Wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Barista Derek, Binge Drinking, Coma, Derek owns a Coffee Shop, Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Hospitals, House Party, M/M, Panic Attacks, Side Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Stiles is a Grad Student, side Jackson Whittemore/Lydia Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffy_Wolf/pseuds/Scruffy_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You really <i>like</i> like him, don't you?"</p><p>Stiles wrinkles his nose, "God, what are you, twelve? I don't <i>like</i> like him. We sleep together sometimes and I studied on his couch for a few hours once. That's it."</p><p>"You should tell him you have feelings for him," Scott continues, blatantly ignoring what Stiles is saying. "It'll probably solve a whole lot of problems. Then you can just sleep together and hang out while not sleeping together without it being awkward. Also, I won't have to listen to months of your moping."</p><p>(Or: Stiles is a grad student who spends far too much money on coffee at Derek's shop. They also fuck occasionally.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So essentially I've been working on this fic on and off for about six months, getting steadily more and more frustrated before I scrapped everything and then cranked out 35k in four days. It was intense dudes, like way intense. 
> 
> Thanks to [Juily](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com) for beta'ing and removing all of my ridiculous grammatical errors. Anything left over is mine but she gave a valiant effort.
> 
> If there's any warnings you think I should add then feel free to message me. 
> 
> (Heads up: the explicit rating is due to a descriptive blow job scene.)
> 
> CW FOR CHAPTER 3, Stiles has a small panic attack, and a lot of chapter 3 takes place in a hospital, I have explained what goes down in the hospital at the end notes incase anyone needs it, or else you can message me on [tumblr](http://captainscruffywolf.tumblr.com) and I'll respond. There is no character death though.

Stiles is in the middle of trying to yank on his socks when suddenly his phone starts to play Avicii's summer hit. He lets out a groan and swipes his finger to answer it. "Scott! Hey, buddy, I'm on my way, I promise, just heading around the corner now," Stiles lies, as he pulls on his sneakers.

Scott sighs over the line, "Stiles, we said we were going to meet ten minutes ago. Can we at least order if you've not left yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Stiles get up to his feet and hurries out the apartment, locking the front door behind him. "I'm just trying to cross the road now. It's hella busy." 

"So that wasn't the key just turning in the lock that I heard?"

"Nope," Stiles says boldly. "Like I said. Traffic; I don't wanna get hit by a car and you know what this road can be like."

"I'll see you in ten, Stiles," Scott says with a weary sigh, and the line goes dead. 

"He's so untrusting," Stiles mumbles, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he sprints down the stairs. He narrowly dodges his upstairs neighbor who's carrying her bike up the steps. She swears at him in polish, and he knows she's knows he still can remember the bad words from his grandmother, after the last time when he swore back at her.

"Sorry MrsNováková!" Stiles yells over his shoulder as he jumps the last few stairs, and yanks open the front door. It's a miserable day out, stray clouds blocking out the light and the slight threat of rain looming over them. Stiles half sprints/half jogs down the street towards the coffee shop that he, Scott and Lydia arranged to meet;  _Perk._

The roads are actually fairly quiet, making it easy for Stiles to dart across them. If he's walking, he and Scott live maybe ten minutes away from _Perk_ , but running Stiles can make it there in under five. 

He flies around the last corner and drops his pace to a respectable 'quick walk' so that it's not totally obvious that he’s running super late. 

 _Perk_ is nestled in between a small corner shop, (that is apparently famous for it's willingness to sell minors alcohol and is constantly being 're-opened' or shut down because of this fact,) and a jewelry boutique that's much too fancy for the street they're on. Stiles pushes open the door to _Perk_ , jingling the small bell attached to the door frame. There's a few regulars seated around the place but there's no one behind the till so he heads over to the booth in the back corner where Scott always sits. 

Lydia and Scott already have coffees in front of them, and are in the middle of a deep discussion when Stiles breezes in, unbuttoning his coat. "Who's on shift today?"

"Derek," Scott answers. 

"Oh, good," Stiles grins, sitting down next to Lydia. "Sorry I'm late, you wouldn't believe the traffic out there."

"You live ten minutes away and have to cross two roads," Lydia says, rolling her eyes at him. "Stiles, I know what your IQ is, you could surely come up with a better lie then that." 

Stiles shrugs, reaching across the table and tearing a corner off of Scott's pastry. "Could've, didn't really see the point though. You guys didn't have to order without me though, rude." 

He hears a door open and twists his head to see Derek poking his head out onto the shop floor from the back office. Stiles waves an arm at him. Derek's head twists around and his gaze lands on Stiles, then he nods at him and turns to the coffee machine, starting to prep him a coffee. 

"I love the service here," Stiles says, leaning back into the seat. Lydia makes a dismissive noise but he decides not to pursue it. Nothing good ever comes from that. 

 _Perk_ is small and out the way enough that Stiles doesn't have to deal with people, a fact which comes in handy early in the morning when he shows up for his caffeine fix before classes. Sometimes he's surprised that it's not full of hipsters; it definitely has the aesthetic for it with a lot of odd bits of furniture, fairy lights and personal post cards tacked up around the place for decoration, but then the menu is pretty simple. 

_Coffee_

_Tea_

_Orange juice._

_Sandwich._

_Pastry._

That's it. It's entirely up to fate what you end up with because Derek doesn't offer options for the sandwiches or pastries, it just depends on what he has in on that day. Sometimes in the winter he removes sandwiches and makes a pot of soup but that's only when it gets really cold. Derek's menu is very take it or leave it, Stiles isn't sure if it's a clever marketing thing or if Derek's just weirdly stubborn. 

Derek lifts up the counter and brings over a mug with coffee in it. The mugs all don't match other and Stiles doesn't know if Derek purposefully crafted the mismatched decor or if he literally just decided 'I want to open a coffee shop' and put it together with whatever spare shit he had from his kitchen. 

"What's your sandwich today?" Stiles asked. 

"No sandwiches," Derek shook his head, "Sorry I forgot to check the bread, it went moldy.” 

Stiles squints at him, mouth dropping a bit. "How do you manage to keep this business afloat?” 

"I'm pretty sure it's all down to the small fortune that you alone spend in here," Derek says with a smirk. "Anything else?"

"Pastry please," Stiles says with a glare. "And add it to my tab."

Derek turns around to the counter and reaches back to grab the already plated up croissant. "I knew you'd order that."

"Of course you did. That's not impressive when it's _literally the only thing on your menu,"_ Stiles says, taking the plate from him. 

Derek raises his eyebrows, "You could try saying thank you." 

"Fine, thank you Derek, are you happy now?" Stiles rolls his eyes. 

"I'm never happy, I live in constant pain and sadness," Derek deadpans. 

"You're such a dork," Stiles shook his head, snorting. 

"See you tomorrow, Stiles," Derek says, before heading back to the office. 

Stiles picks up the coffee and takes a sip, letting out a low hum of contentment. When he looks back up Scott and Lydia are looking at him with varying degrees of confusion. 

"What?"

"When did _that_ start?" Lydia asked

"When did you get a _tab_?" Scott interrupts. 

Stiles snorts, shaking his head, "It's no big deal, I came in one morning and realized that I didn't have any cash on me and you know what Derek's like any time someone suggests getting a credit card machine-"

"No, no I don't," Scott says. "Literally no normal customer would know that."

"I come in every day!" Stiles says defensively. "I was bound to make a few suggestions."

Lydia's looking at him intently, and she's got her problem solving face on, which is always terrifying. 

"God, what? I'm friends with my barista, it's no big deal," Stiles says quickly. "Can we move onto discussing something else. Lydia, what do you think of Scott's ridiculous mustache?”

"Please," she says dismissively with a flip of her hair. "I already informed him that if he's not shaved by the next time we have brunch then I can't be his friend anymore. Also you're not allowed to pick where we go next time, this place has a ridiculous selection for food."

"He usually has sandwiches," Stiles mumbles, but Lydia just rolls her eyes at him and turns back to Scott. 

"I'm considering moving in with Jackson," Lydia informs them. Well, informs Scott, she's not looking at Stiles because she can probably guess what his reaction will be. 

"Jackson?" Stiles interrupts incredulously. "You're thinking of moving in with that douche?"

Lydia lets out a resigned sigh, "Lord give me strength, I don't know why I'm your friend Stilinski, I really don't."

"It's the brutal honesty," Stiles says smugly. "Everyone else is too afraid of you, you need someone with my lack of filter."

"I'm not afraid of you," Scott interrupts. "I'm just not an asshole that voices everything that pops into his head."

Stiles grins, "Love you too, Scotty." 

Stiles loves their weekly lunches. 

 

#

 

He isn't quite sure why he decided to go to grad school, but Stiles has a creeping suspicion that rather than a desire to learn and become better educated it was a crippling fear of the future and a desire to put off making grown up decisions for as long as possible. He's a year and a half into his degree on folklore, and he can count how many times he's been drunk this semester so far one hand. He's not had a proper night's sleep in two weeks or had a proper meal since that weekend his dad visited and bought him a lot of vitamin supplements. He can't remember exactly when that was but the bottle's starting to get empty. 

Stiles has a routine though. He get's up at seven most days, showers and heads to _Perk_ by seven thirty for coffee to make his morning just that slight bit more bearable. The morning shift at _Perk_ is always done by Derek's one and only employee, Erica. 

Usually by the time he walks in she's already got a coffee sitting with his name on it, but when he walks into _Perk_ she just blinks at him. 

"What are you doing here?" Erica frowns.

"Uh," Stiles is confused. It's too early for this shit. "Trying to exchange money for goods and services?"

"Stiles," Erica says, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know it's Saturday, right?"

"What?" Stiles exclaims, eyes opening wide for the first time. "Fuck! Fuckety fuck, _fuck._ Urghhhhh."

"You're holding up the queue," Erica lies. It's seven thirty on a Saturday, there's no one there. 

Stiles is sprawled out on the counter, groaning, "It's _Saturday_ , I should be in bed."

"Uh... do you actually want coffee?"

Stiles finally stands back up straight, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Yeah there's no way I'm getting through this day without it. Actually if you could get it in an IV and just put the caffeine straight into my veins that'd be great. Y'know, cut that middle man out completely."

He lays out his arm on the countertop and taps the inside of his elbow.

"I don't think your veins are prominent enough," Erica says dryly. "I'd just end up stabbing you a few times in the attempt."

"You're no fun," Stiles says. Erica places the mug in front of him, it's steaming and it smells amazing. "Oh hot damn," he says, taking a sip. "It's so good. You guys must put something in this coffee, it's the best coffee in town. What is it? What's your secret?" Erica taps her nose, and Stiles pouts in response. "It's not crack, is it? I mean, you should tell me if it is. I probably should know if I have a crack addiction."

Erica snorts at him, "I think that we'd be charging more than one-fifty a cup if there were drugs in it. Also crack's not so much tasty, as it is just addictive."

"You make a valid point. Anyway, I'll leave you to your busy shift," Stiles gestured to the next-to-empty shop. "And I'm gonna go inhale this coffee and hope it wakes me up."

He heads towards his usual booth at the back of the shop and has already taken a seat before he realizes that the table was in fact, already occupied, and Derek Hale is sitting across from him, glaring over the top of piles of papers and forms.Stiles ignores the glare, "What are you doing here?"

"I own this place. The coffee's free for me."

Stiles snorts, settling back into his seat. "Urgh, it's too early for this shit." He rubs a hand at his eye, before picking at the sleep crusted in the corners. 

Derek frowned, "Isn't it Saturday?"

"I thought it was Friday." Stiles says, figuring he should just answer the question before Derek even asks. "I came here on autopilot, alright? It was early and my alarm was going off. I was barely even conscious."

As expected, Derek starts laughing at him. _Ass,_ Stiles thinks. 

"Why are you up at this godforsaken hour then? You're not working a shift."

"I work best in the mornings," Derek explains, looking back to his computer screen and adjusting his glasses. Most of the time Stiles manages to forget how hot Derek is, or at the very least block it out, but that morning was not one of those times. Stiles ogles at him from across the table for a minute, he's wearing a button down that's pushed up past his elbows, and his hair looks messy, as if he's been tugging at it in frustration. Derek looks like some sort of accountant/pornstar hybrid and that is a very dangerous route for Stiles' brain to be going down.

He lets out a groan of frustration, slouching down in his chair, but Derek pays him no attention. They sit in silence while Stiles drinks his coffee. He spends most of the time trying not to let his thoughts wander, which is difficult considering Derek keeps frowning and biting his lip. Finally Stiles tips back the last of his drink and gets to his feet, "uh, I should be..." 

Derek glances up at him, "Alright, I'll see you later then."

"Good luck on the taxes," Stiles says, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave. 

It's early in February but the cold of winter is still holding onto the town firmly, so Stiles tugs up the collar on his coat and quickens his pace on the walk home. He walks so fast he makes it there in seven minutes. He heads up the stairs and pushes open the door to his apartment. He can hear the TV going, which means Scott must be awake. 

Stiles takes off his coat and shoes, "Hey Scott."

The front door opens straight into their living room/kitchen. It's a pretty tiny place they've got, but what it lacks in space it makes up in proximity to campus and therefore sleep in the mornings. 

"You're up early," Stiles observes, dropping down onto the couch next Scott. 

He shrugs, not looking over. He's got a mixing bowl full of cereal and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "I was gonna go on a run but then I woke up and it was freezing out so I switched on some cartoons. This is definitely the better option."

Stiles nods, "To be fair, I feel like tic removal is better than voluntarily going on a run." 

"And that's why you're dying of a heart attack when you're forty." 

"Says the guy who regularly cooks eggs in bacon fat," Stiles retorts. 

"It's tasty!" Scott says defensively. "Anyway, where the heck were you?"

"I thought it was Friday, ended up going to _Perk_." 

"Could be worse," Scott says, chewing on his cereal. "You could've made it to your office before you realized."

"True dat," Stiles nods. "True dat."

Scott's not moving his eyes from the screen, and Stiles frowns, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay," Scott says, shaking his head. "Just figuring some things out. Well, I should be; right now I'm putting it off." 

Stiles sighs, "Life can betricky. Is this about a girl?"

Scott nods. 

Scott's not had a date since his ex. He and Allison had been high school sweethearts, went to college together and everything. Scott though they were going to get married, but Allison decided to go to France for a PhD. Apparently it was the only way she could afford it. Stiles noticed Scott's was rubbing his tattoo, it had become his sort of tell for when he was thinking of her. 

"I know it's hard to move on," Stiles says. "But you don't want to wreck the chance at something good because you're focusing on what you had." 

"That was," Scott's brow furrows. "Surprisingly good advice. For you I mean."

"Yeah, well, it's in my best interests to get you laid. The tissue bill in this house has gone through the roof." 

Scott rolls his eyes, "You're one to talk. When was the last time you went on a date?"

"That's exactly my point," Stiles says. "Only one of us can be single at a time, and I had dibs. I've been single longer than you, I'm better at it." 

Scott snorts at him. "Speaking of your relationship status," he starts.

"Oh no," Stiles waves his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "There's nothing to talk about." 

"You sure?" Scott lifts an eyebrow, "I'm just saying, I thought I saw sparks flying between you and Derek when we were in _Perk_." 

Stiles laughs, "Look, Derek may be hot like the sun but that's it. I don’t want to sing him lullabies and stroke his hair as he falls asleep.” 

"You've been single for _way_ too long if that's what you think that's what a relationship is," Scott says, making a face. "I mean, I would start by asking him for coffee? Work up to the hair stroking thing.” 

"Scott, I literally drink coffee with him every day." 

“That’s not an argument _against_ asking him out. Try again.”

"Okay, so what about this then," Stiles says. "I don't want to ask him out since I don't like him like _that_. Also when am I going to find time for this dating crap? My life's super busy."

Scott gives him a look up and down, "You spend most of your time in your underwear on the internet. Your life is not that busy."

"Lies," Stiles cries, pointing a finger, "Lies and slander!" 

Scott snorts, "I'm just saying dude. Think about it."

 

#

 

Stiles does think about it; twice that night alone in fact. All that he concludes from this thought process is that Derek's hot like sin. 

Unfortunately, all that thinking makes it awkward as hell the next time he ends up in _Perk_ and realizes that he can't really look at Derek without blushing red. God Stiles needs to get laid _so bad_. If he had the time he would just go to a club, drag a guy home, knock a couple orgasms out and he'd be good for a month or so but which his thesis deadline approaching fast he really can't afford the night getting drunk and then the morning after to recuperate from his hangover. 

Stiles had started his night in the library, but he was having trouble focusing on one task so he relocated to _Perk_ in the hopes that a new environment and a steady stream of coffee would help. He sits himself in the back corner, making sure he's turned away from the counter and sets up his laptop.

Surprisingly the change of scene works. He's acutely aware that Derek's keeping an eye on him and Stiles has inadvertently made it so that Derek has a direct view of Stiles' computer screen. Stiles switched to Buzzfeed once and he got a wet wadded up napkin launched at his head. 

His coffee is refilled without him realizing and about two hours in there's a sandwich put down in front of him with a note to take a twenty minute break. 

Stiles should really study at _Perk_ more often. 

He's having such a productive evening that he doesn't notice the time, since the word doc he has is pulled up on full screen, but Derek is tapping him on the shoulder. He tugs out a headphone and blinks, looking around the empty cafe.

"Oh, shit," Stiles' eyes widen. "I'm sorry dude, what time is it?"

"Uh, eleven? I can't lock up till your gone. "

"Fuck," Stiles shuts the lid of his laptop, "I'm so so sorry, the time just got away from me."

"Just- I need to go to bed."

Stiles frowns, "You should have told me earlier, I didn't mean to keep you open. "

"I forgot you were still here. I was cleaning down then I went to go lock up and realized you were sill sat there. "

"Oh," Stiles says. "My bad. "

He digs out a ten dollar note from his wallet, "uh, thanks for the food, I sometimes forget to eat. "

Derek's expression is unreadable, his jaw set firm and arms folded over his chest. He wearing a stretched out gray T-shirt that's exposing the top of his chest and a curl of chest hair and all Stiles can think is how unfair it is that someone _that_ attractive exists. 

Derek's brow crinkles, "What?"

Stiles' eyes went wide, "Oh, sorry, that was meant to be in my head." He can feel his cheeks turning red but he waves it off with a shrug of his shoulders, before giving Derek a small smile. 

"You really think that I'm attractive?"

"Dude," Stiles says, stunned that he's even asking that. "Have you even seen yourself? You're hot like burning, I mean, like ten out of ten, would bang-“ 

Derek steps forward and presses his lips against Stiles'. Stiles blinks, eyes widened in surprise before his brain kicks in and starts yelling at him to _shut your fucking eyes, you're being weird._

Stiles drops the sheet of paper he was in the middle of holding, and hears it flutter to the ground, but he doesn't really care he's just trying to kick his body into gear and out of the shock factor that he's _kissing Derek Hale_ , and Derek Hale apparently enjoys kissing him and Stiles wishes that someone had told him this months ago. 

He grabs a hold of the back of Derek's neck and presses their bodies together, wrapping his other hand around Derek's waist and _fuck_ he's hard already.

Derek responds by grinding their hips together, while he starts to kiss down Stiles' jaw line, and it feels so much better than any half assed wank he's had recently. Stiles's head lolls back and he grabs at Derek's ass, grinding harder against Derek's thigh, and he's sure it looks obscene and ridiculous but he can't bring himself to care. Stiles feels giddy. He's getting pushed backwards until Derek's got him pressed against a wall. Then Derek sucks down, _hard,_ on a spot on his neck and Stiles' hips jerk in response, his grip tightening.

"Uh, Derek," he gasps. "Derek, we gotta calm it down, or I'm gonna cream my pants."

Derek pulls back, and smirks, his pupils are blown wide, lips swollen and hair mussed, _fuck_ , Stiles just wants to jump him. 

"Bedroom?" Derek asks, and Stiles can tell he's trying to seem smooth but there's a desperate edge to his voice.

"Oh fuck yes," he grins, launching himself back at Derek. Derek grabs him by the bottom of his thighs and hoists him up around his waist. They’re kissing at a different angle now, with Derek's hands holding Stiles’ thighs, and _god_ , Stiles hasn't been laid in a while and he's trying to figure out how long it's been since he trimmed his pubes when Derek bites his neck again and oh _god_ he needs to be naked.

Stiles' back hits a door, and Derek lets go of one of his legs. The other is still wrapped around Derek's waist so he doesn't exactly fall down, but the loss of support is unexpected. Stiles lets out a yelp, holding onto Derek tighter. "A little warning would've been nice! What are you even doing?"

"Just," Derek's breathing is ragged, "Trying to lock the door."

There's a click and then Derek's got both hands holding Stiles up again and they're heading up the stairs. 

The stairs are bumpy and rough, but Derek seems committed to this carrying thing, and they finally make it up and Stiles is dropped unceremoniously onto a bed. 

He bounces up and down, letting out a laugh, but before he can say anything, Derek is back onto him, kissing him fiercely. 

"So," Stiles, gasps between kisses. "What do you want to do?"

Derek's kissing down his neck, settling in-between Stiles' legs, and this is happening, this is really happening. 

"I want to blow you," Derek swallows, looking up at Stiles from underneath his lashes. "Is that okay?"

"Okay? That is _so_ okay. That's like the okay-ey-est thing that's ever been okay," Stiles babbles, as Derek's eyes darken and he starts working on the buttons on Stiles' jeans. Stiles' cock is confined in his boxers but it's certainly at attention. Derek's staring at the bulge  and Stiles can feel his breath ghosting over it through the fabric. 

Due to the lack of anything else to do, Stiles lifts up his hips and allows Derek to yank down his clothes, which lets Stiles' cock spring free in an almost comical movement. Since Derek is settled between his legs they only make it past his knees, but that allows Stiles a little room to spread his legs further. 

There's a brief pause, while Derek reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, before he settles back down on the bed and rolls it down Stiles' cock, keeping Stiles' gaze as he did so and, _fuck,_ it feels so good to have someone else touching his dick for once. Derek looks back to Stiles' cock and _fuck everything, he's licking a stripe up from the base of Stiles dick._ Stiles' head falls back, and he lets out a guttural moan.

He can feel Derek's tongue swirl around his head, and Stiles hands clench in the sheets as he takes his head in his mouth.It's all too much, there's warm hands holding down his hips, and a warm mouth sucking down Stiles' dick, and he can feel every flutter of Derek's tongue. There's a heat pooling in his belly, his forehead breaking out in sweat as he writhes in the sheets. Stiles threads his fingers through Derek's hair, trying his best not to tug too hard. Derek continues bobbing his head up and down, a slight suction that's almost unbearable, and it's all too much, it's overwhelming, it's-

"Derek," Stiles chokes out, grip tightening on his hair. "Derek, I'm' gonna-"

Derek keeps up his steady pace, and rubs a circle into Stiles' hip as Stiles comes, hard, his back arching off of the bed and grip tightening, to, in hindsight, a probably uncomfortable level for Derek. 

He falls back against the sheets, panting, as Derek worms his way up the bed to lie down next to him. Stiles still has a shirt on, his jeans are only pushed as far as his ankles, and Derek's still fully dressed.

Stiles chuckles.

"What?" Derek asks, making a face.

"We're just so dressed," Stiles laughs, before leaning down and pulling off the condom, tying a knot in it and tossing it towards the trash. 

"You're lucky that made it to the bin."

"Luck has nothing to do with it,' Stiles smirked. "Pure _talent."_

Derek snorts at him, "Sure."

"I'm a pretty talented dude," Stiles smirks, before leaning down to tug his bottoms off the full way and kick them off the bed. "You wanna see some of my other talents?"

Derek rolls his eyes, "That was such an awful-"

Stiles shuts him up by kissing him, which he decides is the best way to shut Derek up _ever_. He rolled them over so that Stiles was straddling Derek by the waist, and started to work on undoing his buttons. 

They were in for a long night. 

 

#

 

The first thing that alerts Stiles to the fact that he's not in his own bed is the pillows. There was an... incidentwith Scott and a stray that he'd brought home the previous week and Stiles hadn't gotten around to buying new ones yet. 

The second is that there's an alarm going off that's not his own, and god is it annoying.

The third thing is the a snoring figure next to him. 

He squints open an eye, glancing at the bedside clock that is making this infernal beeping. He reaches out an arm to smack the button on top of the alarm. He turns the other way and reaches out a leg to kick Derek. His foot brushes up against Derek's leg hair and he resists the urge to intertwine them and snuggle in closer. Stiles tends to jerk and kick in his sleep and it's far too early for morning sex. 

"Urgh," Derek grunts, pulling the comforter up further over his head and curling into a ball.

"Derek," Stiles groans, giving him another kick. "Alarm. Yours."

"Five minutes,' Derek says, voice muffled under the sheets. 

Well, no one could say Stiles didn't try.

 

#

 

"Oh shit."

The bed jostles as Derek jumps out of bed like he's been set on fire. Stiles pokes his head out from the sheets, wincing in the sunlight, "Little harsh."

"No not-" Derek groans, hopping into a pair of boxers. Stiles tries not to giggle at the way his penis jiggles. "It's eight. I'm meant to be opening the shop."

"Oh," Stiles says. "Shit."

Derek is already tugging on a shirt. "Go back to sleep, take a shower if you want and you can get breakfast from downstairs when you want to go."

Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but Derek's already fled from the room. 

He's too awake now to go back to sleep so instead he get's up, pulls on a pair of boxers from the drawer he'd seen Derek open earlier, and pads through to the rest of his apartment. 

He's been in Derek's apartment before. Well, once, when he was complaining about the sandwich of the day so much that Derek let him have some left over lasagna that he had in his fridge, and then he'd only seen really seen the living room. 

The hallway leads straight down to a staircase that leads to the back of the shop, and it has four doors off of it, one to the living room/kitchenette, one to a bathroom, one to the spare bedroom and another to a closet with towels. He grabs a towel and decides to shower. Derek's shower has ridiculously good water pressure he finds out, and Stiles spends a good twenty minutes under there before finally gathering the willpower to switch it off. He steps out and grabs the towel from the hook, drying his face, before he wipes the mirror. He looks okay, maybe a bit tired but then that's really a constant state of being by now, and oh  _fuck,_ Derek's left him one fucker of a hicky. 

He tips up his jaw to get a better look, but the bathroom mirror is re-fogging up. He sighs and wraps the towel firmly around his waist, padding back through to Derek's room. 

It takes most of his self-restraint, but he stops himself from snooping through Derek's drawers. He does glance back in the mirror to examine the hickey that's been left on his neck. He gives it an experimental prod but it's tender, and a deep purple color. 

He's not even mad, it was totally worth it. He's a little impressed at the sheer size of it even.

Stiles pulls on his shoes, and pads down to the cafe. He left all his stuff down there last night, and is praying that someone's tidied it up. 

Derek looks frazzled, his hair is still mussed up and Stiles is pretty sure that his shirt is on inside out, but Erica's working alongside him so nothing can be going too wrong. 

Erica turns and spots him, her face breaking out into a grin, "Damn, Stilinski, that is one hell of a hickey."

Stiles adjusts his shirt, "Uh yeah..."

"Don't worry," she points to the corner where his bag is sitting, before tossing him his cell phone. He catches it by the tips of his fingers. "I gathered up all your stuff. That phone's been bleeping all morning by the way."

He hits the hold button to see three missed calls and six texts from Scott that all amount to 'call me so I know you're not dead.'

The rush of guilt hits him swiftly; Stiles is a terrible friend.

He's in the middle of tapping out a reply to Scott when his battery promptly dies, which is just his luck really. Stupid iPhones and their stupid battery life. "I gotta go, Scott seemed pretty worried and my phone's died."

"You could use mine," Derek offers, but Stiles shakes his head. 

"I don't remember his number, but thanks though."

"You're both welcome for covering your asses this morning, by the way," Erica says, folding her arms over her chest. Derek blushes beetroot. 

"Uh, sorry about that." 

"My bad," Stiles interrupts. "I turned off the alarm."

"Don't let it happen again," Is all Erica says, before she turns around to the customer waiting at the till. 

Stiles blushes, ducking his head and dropping Derek's gaze. God, if the ground could just open up and swallow him, then that'd be great. "Uh, well... I'd better go."

"That was... fun," Derek says. "At least... I thought it was?"

"No, me too," Stiles interrupts hastily. "I thought it was fun. Too." 

"We should do it again?" 

"Guys are fucking hopeless," Erica mutters, pushing past him so that she can get to the small fridge. 

They both snort, and Stiles looks up to catch Derek's gaze. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Stiles decides that he should be decisive. He reaches forward and grabs a pen out of Derek's apron pocket, then pulls Derek's arm to wards him and scrawls his number along it. "Call me if you want to do that again," he presses a brief kiss against Derek's lips before he can change his mind and he dashes from the apartment. 

When he finally makes it back to his flat he finds Scott curled up asleep on the couch and another stab of guilt goes through him. He grabs a post it from the fridge and scrawls - _Home, sorry bout that -- Stiles,_ then sticks it to Scott's face. Scott sniffs, and rolls over, but doesn't wake.

Stiles forgot to get coffee, since he left in such a hurry, and their coffee maker makes a lot of noise so he just grabs a glass of milk and heads through to his bedroom. 

Milk though, unlike coffee, does not have caffeine in it, and Stiles ends up falling asleep on top of his laptop before he'd even turned the thing on.  

 

#

 

Sometimes Stiles and Scott can go days without really seeing each other. Stiles' schedule of a lot of readings and not many contact hours contrasts heavily with Scott's intensive Vet-School-Shit. Scott would often leave early in the morning and return late at night when Stiles was in the library. 

Unfortunately for Stiles it wasn't one of those days. 

Stiles blinks as the door of his room is thrown open, Scott standing in the doorway, "I thought something had happened."

"Dude," Stiles yawns, "Chill."

"You couldn't have texted?"

"I was busy," Stiles says defensively. "C'mon, it's not like I've not stayed out all night before, heck I used to spend more nights in other peoples beds than my own."

Scott rolls his eyes, letting Stiles know he's not really pissed. He leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, "Yeah, when you were an undergrad. Seriously Stiles, think about it; When was the last time that you stayed out all night?" 

Stiles does. It's been a painfully long time, he realizes. He shuts his laptop and gets to his feet deciding he's in dire need of coffee if he's going to put up with Scott lecturing him. 

He pushes past Scott towards the kitchen, there's already a pot sitting in the coffee maker, thank _god._ Stiles pours a mug before going to sit at at the table. 

Scott takes a bag of Doritos from the cupboard and sits across from Stiles, "D'yo wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Last night? Decompress, y'know. Where were you?"

"I'm fine Scott, it was sex. I can do sex, I may be out of practice but all the things still go into the same places. It's like riding a bike, or, y'know, riding a person," Stiles says with a grin at the word-play. 

Scott makes a face, "Thanks for that image dude. So, uh, was it someone you know?"

"Well I know him now. Biblically," he wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're deflecting," Scott accuses

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, "Fine I knew him, but Scott, it's no big deal; we fucked and it was damn good. Nothing you need to get all worried over."

Scott's looking at him curiously and fuck, he knows _exactly_ who Stiles slept with. Stiles tries not to blush, holding Scott's steady gaze. "Did you talk at all?" Scott asks.

"Y'know me Scott, I'm not really one for small talk," Stiles says, giving him a wide grin. 

Scott rolls his eyes at Stiles, "Did you talk _after?_ "

"No I just left."

Scott just raised an eyebrow at him. "Rude."

"He was working! and Erica kept leering at us," Stiles says, his voice reaching a high, defensive tone. "I gave him a peck on the cheek and got out of there."

"You're a mess," Scott says after a minute. "Are you gonna sleep with him again?"

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe? I dunno. He's got my number, we night set up a booty call thing. Or we might not. I'll have to wait and see."

"Keep me updated dude," Scott says, before finally opening the bag of Doritos. "I'm kinda invested in your life."

"Story for a story," Stiles says, reaching over to grab some chips. "You'll get more of the _Stiles Stilinski Show_ when you gimmie some dirt on your life."

"I don't have any dirt." 

"Well then, you better do something interesting," Stiles says, liftng his eyebrows. "Or else no more Stiles Stories."

"You're the worst." Scott announces. "The actual worst." 

 

#

 

He isn't sure how he manages it, but he convinces Lydia to give _Perk_ another chance for their Saturday morning brunch. It's easier than he expected, which means Lydia definitely has an agenda but he can't figure out what it is. 

The ordering goes smoother than Stiles had expected, he's pretty sure no one can tell that he's fucked the barista by looking at them. 

"Right, now hear me out," Stiles starts, "I know you don't do requests or substitutions. Sandwich or no sandwich, coffee or no coffee etc... but just this once, could you do me a solid and make Lydia's no mayo. I don't know whats going to be on it, and she's not that fussy but she just hates mayonnaise and I'll be getting an earful about dragging her to this place again if there's nothing she can eat."

Derek opens his mouth to argue, but Stiles gives him an exaggerated pout. He lets out a sigh, "Fine. And three coffees?" 

"Two Coffees, one tea," Stiles says. 

"Would you guys like a choice of tea?" Derek asks, but his voice is strained like it's paining him to say. 

Stiles snorts, "Don't hurt yourself there dude, just take your pick." 

Stiles waits by the counter until Derek comes back with his coffees, "I'm just saying dude, this whole 'let the customer choose what they want to eat' thing might catch on. You should prepare yourself."

"If there's allergies or a medial reason then I'm willing to compromise," Derek says. "I just don't have the facilities to have six different types of sandwiches and 18 types of coffee."

"Whatever," Stiles says, picking up the coffees and tea gingerly. It's a fine balancing act but he thinks he's got it. 

"You need a hand?" 

"I got it," Stiles grins.

"I'll bring over your food once to the table," Derek says, eyeing him suspiciously, "It's a slow morning."

"Thanks!" Stiles calls, turning and heading over to the corner where Lydia and Scott are already sat. Scott jumps to his feet when he spots Stiles’ precarious hold on their drinks and takes the tea from his hand. 

"You can make two trips," Scott points out.

"Yeah but then that would be admitting defeat," Stiles says, before sliding into the booth next to Lydia.He turns his head and presses a kiss into Lydia's cheek. "Morning." 

She smiles at him, "Good morning, how's the thesis?”

"God Lydia," Stiles rolls his eyes, "You don't just ask someone how their thesis is." 

She gives him a withering stare, just as Derek comes to the table, three plates stacked in his hands. "Two sandwiches of the day, and one special with no mayo."

He places the plates down in front of them all, giving Lydia the special one. 

"You guys need anything else?" 

"Nah, thanks man," Stiles says, already picking up his sandwich. He takes a bite, "God this is good today." 

Derek doesn't say anything, he just slips away and back around the counter without a sound. Stiles glances over to Lydia who is picking apart her sandwich. He eyebrows scrunch and she looks up at Stiles.

"You slept with him," It's a statement not a question, but Stiles tries to deny it anyway.

"What?! Me? You think I could hit _that_ ," he gestures to Derek, who's glowering at the countertop as he tries to scrub at a particularly difficult stain. "Pft, in my dreams maybe."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Please, Stiles, I don't think you _could_ , I think you did. Well, know actually, it's obvious."

Stiles sighs, "What gave me away?"

Lydia leans over and presses a finger into his neck, right over the gigantic hickey he'd almost forgotten about, causing him to hiss and flinch away. "If you want to tap that again you should sit further away from me. Lover boy keeps steeling glances and looking at us like a wounded puppy."

"Please," Stiles rolls his eyes, but he does look over towards Derek who looks away quickly. "There's no way he wants to do it again anyway. I left him my number and it's been three days. No calls. It's fine though; I'm fine with it. I mean, it was possibly the best sex of my life so, y'know, just be glad it happened and what not."

"He wants to jump your bones again, or possibly write you poetry," Lydia says, still staring at Derek and completely ignoring Stiles. 

"Definitely both," Scott agrees. "I mean, on the one hand I'm glad that they finally banged and got it over with, but on the other hand we now have to put up with Stiles when he's getting laid and he's always, like, fifty times more obnoxious than usual."

"Love you too, Scott." Stiles slouches back, angling himself slightly further from Lydia as he does so, "Can we talk about something else please? What about Scott's sex life, that's always a good topic."

Lydia frowns, before turning to Scott, "There's something to talk of?"

"I don't want to-"

"Spill."

"I may have met someone?" Scott says nervously. Lydia is eyeing him very critically, before she flips her hair over her shoulder and gives him an astute smile. 

"Good. Allison's been dating someone for three months but she was two nervous to tell you."

Scott looks stunned. "Three months?"

"C'mon, Scott, I know you two were cute, but she's... gone. Having sex with some French boy and eating a lot of bread."

Stiles can detect the small note of bitterness, and he's reminded that while Lydia understands her friend’s decision to leave, she's still a little peeved about it. 

"So tell me about this girl," Lydia demands. 

"She's called Kira, and she's on my course," Scott starts, "She's got this really great smile and knows a lot of crazy interesting facts and..."

Because Stiles is a bad friend, he starts to tune this out. Scott got like this with Allison and while it's adorable, it's also deeply annoying to live with. He wished that he had the kind of optimism that Scott had for people sometimes. 

Lydia however is focused intently on Scott's ramble, smiling. Once he stops talking she pauses before saying "I'm really glad that you're... happy."

"What's happening with Jackson?" Stiles asks, genuinely interested in her reply. 

"Jackson is... Jackson," Lydia says, pursing her lips. Stiles waits for her to continue, but she doesn't.

"Are you still dating?"

"Technically."

"Technically?"

"Well we had a big fight but we didn't break up so we're still technically dating."

Stiles doesn't understand Lydia's relationship, "Were you not just about to ask him to move in? I don't know what you see in him, the guy's a douche."

She shrugs, "You'd do well not to judge others considering the state of your own romantic life."

She has a point. 

Stiles doesn't really have any more points of conversation that week. Aside from the surprise sex he's not done anything out of the ordinary. He tells Lydia of some of the ridiculous emails that the undergrads have sent him and Lydia tells them both how her subtle but hostile take-over of the Math department's going. Scott talks a little about his course, and before they know it two hours have passed and everyone needs to be going.

"I better be off."

"Me too," Scott says, digging out his wallet. "Stiles, can you go pay the bill?"

He nods and takes both of their money, heading up the counter. Erica has arrived over the course of their meal, and she gives him a wave. Derek's stood behind the till, glowering. 

"What's up with you?" Stiles frowns. 

"Nothing," Derek snaps, but he quickly glances to Lydia, who's standing by the door, waiting on him, or most probably watching, he doubts she'd wait on him considering they're going in different directions. 

"Wait, you don't-"

"It's not my business," Derek says quickly. 

Stiles huffs out a sigh and turns around, waving Lydia to leave. She struts off, chin held high. "I'm not dating Lydia, if that's what's got your panties in a twist." 

Derek blinks, eyes wide, "Uh, I didn't-"

"Save it," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Although really? You thought I was dating Lydia?"

"Well," Derek struggles for words, "You guys seem close and she comes in here a lot and... I just didn't want to be a part of that."

"Well there's nothing to be a part of, I'm almost insulted you think so little of me that I'd cheat on my girlfriend with you and then bring her here for lunch."

"It's maybe not my most logical train of thought," Derek admits. "I just... I've been on the other side of that before. I didn't want to-" 

"Hey, hey," Stiles reached out a hand and placed it over Derek's arm, giving him a quick squeeze. "No need to explain. I'm a single pringle dude, absolutely no attachments. I'm so unattached, the last time I had a date was in 2012." 

"I'm..." Derek pauses. "I'm single too." 

"So, do you want to continue this being single together thing that we started the other night?" Stiles asks, giving him a lurid grin. 

Derek blinks, and nods, grinning back. He grabs Stiles by the hand and drags him upstairs.

Erica looks like she could spit fire when Derek says he's taking a break, but Stiles can't really bring himself to care. 

 

#

 

Stiles and Derek hook up again two days later, this time was totally Derek's suggestion though, so Stiles counts that as a win. 

It started when Stiles was in the middle of taking a tutorial. When he had signed up to be a TA he vastly overestimated the student’s intelligence. Now he's just surprised they all manage to dress themselves and mostly show up to class considering some of the work he's had to mark.. 

"Colin," Stiles calls with a sigh, glancing over to the boy sitting in the back row. "I get that you apparently don't give a shit about anything, but can you put your phone away and take your feet off of the desk?"

Colin looks at Stiles like he's in physical pain before he rolls his eyes and thumps his feet to the floor. A titter goes around the class, but Stiles just ignores it. 

"Anyway, now I'm going to _remind_ you all about your essay that's due- hold on, that's my phone."

 Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and swipes right quickly to stop the ringing. He doesn't glance at the caller ID before picking up. "Hello, Mr. Stilinski," 

"Stiles, it's Derek," comes the reply. 

Stiles blinks, and turns his back to the class, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know it was you. Hey, can I call you back? I'm in the middle of a class."

There's a pause, "Did you answer your phone while teaching?"

"Uh..."

"Go!" Derek exclaims, laughing. Stiles grins, hanging up the phone and turning back to the class. 

"Sorry about that," Stiles says, shoving his phone back into his pocket. No one seems to care. "Where was I...? Oh yeah, remember your essays are due thursday before holiday starts. Any questions?"

There's a hand lazily thrust into the air, Stiles frowns trying to remember the name. "Uh... yeah?"

"Why thursday? Why not like... Friday?"

"Because," Stiles says with a sigh, "Undoubtedly one of you will "forget" to hand it in on Thursday. If I were to set the date for Friday then the same thing would happen but you'd be away for two weeks on spring break and wold be unable to hand it in and then I'd probably need to fail you. If I set it for Thursday and anyone forgets to bring it to class then I can accept it on Friday; obviously with a ten percent grade deduction."

There's a collective groan around the class, but Stiles gave up trying to be the nice tutor long ago.Another hand's thrown into the air, and Stiles remembers the name this time, "Yeah, Melissa."

"Yeah, uh, that's another thing, why is this due _before_ the holidays?" She's chewing gum loudly as she speaks. "My friend Carrie who's in another tutorial has _all_ spring break to work on her essay, which I don't find fair." 

Stiles rubs a hand over his forehead, "I told you about this essay weeks ago! Months, even, you guys cannot be complaining about time."

The guy in the back row who had his feet up on the table decides to speak up, "I agree, it's unfair other people get more time with us."

"Well tough shit," Stiles sighs. "That's life unfortunately and sometimes stuff’s not fair. Now I can personally name three tutorial groups who got their essay questions after you who have the same deadline, so count yourselves lucky on that front. Dudes, this isn't a difficult essay, you still have over two weeks and I can guarantee that if I gave you it due after the holidays then you'd spend two weeks getting wasted then write the thing the night before. 

"It's due March thirteenth, anyone who hands it in after the holidays will be getting getting a scraped pass at best. You all understand?" 

The class mutter their understanding, so Stiles sighs, "Right, okay, I'll see you guys Monday, have a good weekend."

Stiles starts to gather up his stuff, clearing down the board as the students shuffle out. God he doesn't get paid enough for this. He pulls out his phone as he slings his backpack over his shoulder, redialing Derek's number. 

"Hey," Stiles says when the phone picks up. 

"Hey," Derek replies, slightly out of breath. Stiles frowns. 

"Have you been on a run or something?" Stiles asks.

"N-No," Derek says, but his breathing is still uneven. 

"Are you sure, 'cause you sound- wait, you're not...?!" Stiles exclaims, running a hand through his hair. Fuck, Derek's going to kill him, he's going to die in a glorious sex related death. He glances around nervously but no one's paying him any attention. 

"I might be," Derek says, and Stiles can see him smirking in his head. That bastard. 

"Is this why you were calling me earlier?" 

"Why else?" Derek says, before he lets out a bitten off moan. Fuck that's hot. "Where are you?" Derek asks. 

"Just leaving campus now."

"Be here in fifteen or I'm finishing without you."

Stiles makes it to _Perk_ in ten and kicks off his jeans on the stairs in his rush to see Derek. Erica rolls her eyes at him as he rushes past. 

 

#

 

The next time he sees Derek is unplanned. He drags himself up the stairs to his apartment (god why did he and Scott have to get something on the fourth floor) on Friday after work has finished, looking forward to a night spent watching playing video games in his underwear. He's _exhausted_. He's had extra marking this week for his tutor groups, and his thesis still seems to be getting nowhere.  

He kicks off his shoes, and yanks off his coat as soon as he steps into the door, letting out a groan.

"Stiles? Is that you?" Scott yells. 

"No I'm a burglar," Stiles says, hanging up his coat. "I'm stealing all your things.” 

"Stiles-"

"Yeah?" Stiles calls, before turning the corner and stopping dead in his tracks. "Oh."

Scott is stood in the kitchen with a girl and they’re both naked other than a blanket clutched tightly around them both. Stiles vaguely recognizes the girl as Kira, which is impressive considering they've only met a couple times and she's trying to hide behind Scott. 

"Uh, yeah," Scott blanches.

"Shit, sorry dudes, I didn't-" Stiles says as his brain flips into gear and he spins around and slams a hand over his eyes for good measure. "I'll go."

"That would be good," Scott says and Stiles turns the corner. He freezes, covers his eyes and turns back to the kitchen. 

"Sorry, uh, I was just wondering when-"

"Stiles, get out!" Scott yells. He lets go of the hand holding the blanket around his neck to point to the door, which means that Stiles can now see his chest and Stiles doesn't know when he's found the time but he definitely looks like he's been working out. Congrats to Scott.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Stiles says, rolling his eyes behind his hand and turning away. He grabbed his coat and stepped out of the door, he could go to Lydia's, but Lydia lived a bus ride away and would probably not be sympathetic to Stiles' plight. Also there was a strong possibility that Jackson would be there, and, y'know, _fuck Jackson._

He should go to the library, but Stiles never particularly likes the Library. He's tired and he doesn't want to be sat at a desk for hours in crippling silence, so instead he finds himself walking to _Perk_  

Erica frowns at him when he steps in. "Not the usual time for you, Stilinski," she observes. 

"Yeah, well," he shrugs, sauntering up to the countertop. "I missed your beautiful face." 

Her gaze narrows, "What do you want?"

"Is Derek in?"

"He's upstairs," Erica says. "You can head on up." 

In order to get through to the back of the shop you have to lift up the countertop, but the first time he'd gone through to the back himself he'd let the counter drop down accidentally and it'd made one helluva bang. Erica had given him an earful about it and so now he just ducks through the gap underneath.

(Stiles finds Erica quite frankly terrifying and will do anything she asks without question.)

He pushes open the front door, and immediately Derek's calling out, "It can't be that busy Erica, you don't need help!"

"Not Erica," Stiles calls back, kicking his shoes off and stepping into the living room. Derek is standing at the cooker, frying something that smells delicious. He turns around in surprise, brandishing a spoon. 

"Stiles, what... what?" 

"Sorry for just dropping by," Stiles frowns, "I just... Scott had a friend over and I didn't want to go to the library again today. That place is soul destroying."

"Oh," Derek says, his mouth still slightly open. He looks lost. 

"I hope it's okay, I mean, I'll be no trouble I'm just gonna do some readings tonight anyway," Stiles says uncertainly, but Derek's still blinking at him and not saying anything. "I mean, I can go, if..."

"No!" Derek says hurriedly, shaking his head, "No, sorry I was just surprised is all, grab a seat, I'm just cooking dinner. Have you eaten?" 

Stiles tries to remember but Derek just gives him a resigned sigh and says, "I'll put on some more rice."

"Thanks dude," Stiles says, sitting down on the couch and pulling his laptop out of his bag. He needs to get his iPad set up with more of his research books, it would make it a lot easier than having to drag his laptop around every day. His laptop is a bulky Dell that he's had since his first year of college and it's getting to almost unusable it's so slow, but he's hoping to squeeze a few more months out of it until he graduates, then it can go into retirement. 

Derek's pretty quiet, and there's some soft jazz playing in the background; the kind that Stiles often hears in the coffee shop, and Stiles realizes that he has no idea what Derek _does_ when he's not working. 

He bites down on the question, they're not dating, and there's no reason to get needlessly attached. Instead he types in his password and drums his fingers on the laptop case while the computer starts up. 

"You like spicy food?" Derek asks. 

"Yeah," Stiles answers, clicking open a PDF.

Stiles is not a silent worker. He's sat on the couch cross-legged, with the laptop onto of him and a notepad in one hand, pen held between his teeth, reading sections from his book out loud. 

After about twenty minutes Derek shouts that dinner’s finished, and Stiles shifts aside his computer, stretches out his legs and heads over to the kitchen. 

"This looks... fuckin' great dude. I mean, I can cook but it's mostly basic things and sauces from jars," Stiles says, glancing around the counter to see the empty tins, herbs and spices

"I like cooking," Derek shrugs, heaping a plate with rice and passing it over to Stiles. He then heaped his own with Chili before heading over to the kitchen table. "What are you reading about anyway?"

"Celtic mythos, I'm studying Folklore," he adds, unsure if he's shared that fact with Derek before. He heaps up a plate with Chili before going to sit down next to Derek. 

Derek nods, which means he probably hadn't. "Do you... enjoy it?" 

"Mostly," Stiles says. "I'm just trying to get my thesis finished with now so that's killing me slowly." 

Derek nods along, "I remember trying to finish mine, god it felt like it was never going to end."

"You've got a degree?" Stiles says in surprise. "What in?"

"An MA in History."

"And you run a coffee shop? That bodes well."

It was only once the words came out of his mouth that he realized what an asshole-ish thing that was to say, but Derek just raised an amused eyebrow at him, "Well you're the one getting a degree in folklore. What job do you think that you're going to walk into?"

Stiles' eyes widen in surprise, "Damn, you're an asshole."

"Takes one to know one," say Derek, grinning in earnest now. 

"Urgh, what are you, five?" Stiles laughs, picking up his fork and mixing together the rice and the chili before he starts to eat. On the first bite he just lets out this low moan. He's not eaten this well in months. " _Fuck_ ," he hisses, savoring the flavor."Derek this is, and I mean this as a compliment, almost as good as Mrs McCall's chili."

"Thanks. I think."

"I mean, like on the scale from one to ten with ten being Mrs McCalls and one being the general population's chili yours is a solid four."

Derek sighs, "You're terrible at compliments."

Stiles just shrugs and takes another bite, "God this is good."

Derek just ignores him, deciding instead to eat his own meal. 

When they're finished Stiles clears away and does the dishes, since he feel kind of rude for just turning up on Derek's doorstep, and Derek helps dry. 

"Are you a TA?"

"Yeah," Stiles sighs, "I kinda wish in hindsight that I'd done the TA thing last year, y'know, gimmie a bit more free time this year. Also the group that I teach is awful so there's that."

"First years?"

"Yup. I had them all complaining because I set the essay deadline on the Thursday before the holiday, even though they've known about this for weeks," Stiles rants. "It's like they don't understand that I'm a person with shit too do, y'know? I need them in before the holidays so I'll actually have time to mark them."

Derek nods, "Well that's the thing, they _don't_ think that you're a person. Not really, they're absorbed in parties and their first time living on their own and it's an important chapter in their lives, y'know? And most of them are selfish little assholes."

Stiles snorts, before handing the last dish over to Derek, "You mind if I stay here for another hour maybe?"

"Sure, take as long as you need," Derek reached up to put the plate on the top shelf of the cupboard, his shirt lifting slightly, exposing the thin line of skin of Derek's stomach which was covered with a scattering of hair.

"I'll just be an hour," Stiles assures him, shaking himself out of the train of thought. "If I'm not moving in an hour gimmie a nudge. "

"Will do," Derek assures him.

Stiles settles down to work, but his focus is completely shot, and he finds himself clicking onto Facebook within five minutes. 

"Do some work!"

Stiles looked up from his laptop towards the armchair where Derek was sitting, reading a book. He frowns, since Derek can't see his screen, "What? I am working."

"You definitely aren't, you've stopped talking out your notes and I've not seen you write anything down in five minutes,you're just scrolling."

"But-"

"Facebook?"

Stiles hangs his head, admitting defeat. "Yeah."

"Get to work," Derek says, sliding a bookmark into his book and getting up to his feet. "I'll go get you a coffee."

Derek heads downstairs and Stiles sighs, closing Facebook and reopening his PDF. He's started working again when Derek arrives with a take away cup from _Perk._

"Thanks dude," Stiles grabs the cup without looking at Derek, and puts it down on the table in front of him. 

He's acutely aware that Derek has figured out how to tell when he's not working, which makes him actually keep working.The hour drags by, and Stiles just wants to quit because this assigned reading he has is _so boring_ , but he plods on until the clock ticks nine and he shuts down his computer. 

"Done! I'm _done_ for the day!"

Derek looks over his book at him, then to the clock and back to Stiles. "Congrats. Say hi to Scott for me." 

"Will do," Stiles says, getting to his feet and stretching out his back. He winces, remembering what Scott was doing when he left the apartment, "God I'm gonna need to fuckin' bleach the place."

"Where were they?" Derek asks.

"In the kitchen."

Derek winces, "Yeah, that might be helpful then."

"Anyway," Stiles says, stalling behind the couch. It's awkward, usually after they've had sex he'll give Derek a kiss on the cheek before he leaves, but then, that's after they've had _sex_. The situation's different; they're generally a lot closer and sweatier and a kiss doesn't seem as... out of place. 

Stiles settles for a wave, before he pulls on his coat and thunders down the steps into the back of _Perk._ He says bye to Erica as he leaves and heads back to his apartment, praying that Scott and Kira aren't naked. 

 

#

 

When Stiles gets home Scott and Kira are locked firmly in Scott's room, thank _god_. He goes to get a cup of coffee and finds a bra dangling from the tops of the cupboard. He lets out a sigh and yanks it down. There's a pair of Scott's jeans hiding under the table as well so Stiles folds them over the back of the couch while the coffee brews. He goes pretty much straight to bed after that, sitting with coffee and reading a book for a few hours to unwind it'll he feels like he can sleep. 

He forget's that Kira's around when he wakes up though, so he trudges through to the kitchen in just his boxers and switches on the coffee maker. He's waiting on the machine giving brewing when he hears Scott's room door open. He glances to his left to find Kira stood in one of Scott's T-shirts and a pair of panties. He blanches for a minute, about to go get changed but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he's just in his boxers. 

"Is that coffee?" she asks, sitting down at the table and smiling brightly but with tired eyes. She has a pretty smile, Stiles' observes. Scott always had a thing for girls with pretty smiles. 

"It sure smells like it," Stiles grunts. The machine clicks and starts to dribble coffee into the pot. He opens up a cupboard and pulls out a box of cereal, turning to Kira, "You eat Frosted Flakes?"

She grins, "Love 'em."

He puts them down on the table, along with a couple of bowls and the carton of milk. He can hear the shower running which means that Scott's up too, so he grabs three cups and the fresh pot of coffee laying it all out for them. 

"I feel like Scott should be the one doing this," Stiles muses. 

Kira snorts, grabbing the pot and starting to pour out some coffee, "Yeah but the coffee would probably be burnt."

Stiles laughs, "Scott does not make good coffee, I really don't know how he does it." 

"It's a mystery," Kira agrees, lifting her mug to her lips and taking a sip. 

"What's a mystery?" Stiles' head jerks up to see Scott stepping out from the bathroom, hair slightly damp still and looking slightly confused. "And why are you both naked?"

"It's our illicit affair," Stiles shrugs, before reaching over to grab the box of cereal. "We just couldn't keep our hands off each other."

Stiles wonders momentarily if he's pushed it too far, considering he's met Kira twice and probably said like twenty words to her in total, but then Kira's smirking at him and playing along with the joke. "Stiles was just looking in the fridge for milk and I was like ' _Damn I gotta tap that.'_ " 

Stiles snorts and Scott just sits down at the table, rolling his eyes, "You're both ridiculous. Did someone make coffee?"

"Literally right in front of you," says Stiles, and he taps the pot's red handle.

Scott smiles, and grabs the pot, pouring himself a mug. Kira puts down her spoon and gets to her feet, kissing Scott on the top of his head. "I'm going to jump in the shower then." 

"Oh great, this means I'm going to be late now, doesn't it?" Stiles sighs, slouching in his seat. 

Scott shrugs, "You're the humanities student, it's not like you've got anything compulsory until twelve."

Stiles just glares at him.

"So where did you go last night?" Scott asks. "'Cause I texted Lydia and you weren't there."

"Lydia lives far away," Stiles says, avoiding the question. "I would've had to get a bus there and then I wouldn't have wanted to come home and would've ended up sleeping at hers again and _then_ I would've had to put up with Jackson being an asshat and taking thirty minutes to wash his fucking hair." 

"That wasn't my question, dude," Scott says, but he's got this knowing smirk. Scott know's exactly where he went; Stiles' doesn't know how, but Scott knows.

"Fuck you," Stiles says, before stuffing a spoonful of frosted flakes into his mouth. Scott laughs at him. 

"I just _knew_ it. Did you sleep together?"

"Fuck. You." Stiles repeats, after he's swallowed his cereal. 

"You didn't sleep together?" Scott exclaims, and fuck, Stiles has really got to stop hanging out with Scott, the guy can read him like a book. He's grinning like a little kid on Christmas, "You really _like_ like him, don't you?"

Stiles wrinkles his nose, "God, what are you, twelve? I don't _like-_ like him. We occasionally sleep together and I studied on his couch for a few hours one time. That's it."

"You should tell him you have feelings for him," Scott continues, blatantly ignoring what Stiles is saying. "It'll probably solve a whole lot of problems. Then you can just sleep together and hang out while not sleeping together without it being awkward. Maybe kiss in public sometimes."

"That's all fine and well, but _I'm not into him like that!"_

"Please, it's written all over your face."

"Well then my face must've gotten its wires crossed. I'm not into Derek, end of story."

Scott pauses, pursing his lips before a wicked grin crosses his face, "For someone who's not into Derek you spend an awful lot of time _in Derek."_

"Oh my god." Stiles says, blankly. "Oh my _god._ What even was that?! I'm fucking ashamed to be your friend. We've not even done that yet." He jumps to his feet. "I'm leaving before you can say any more bad puns, and you're officially _banned_ from giving me advice." Stiles storms off to his room, leaving Scott still chucking at his own joke. 

A few seconds later Stiles pokes his head out of his room and yells; "My penis may be into him, but that is _all!"_ before he slams the door again. 

Scott is officially the _worst._

 

#

 

Stiles isn't sure exactly when he and Derek started to text things other than a time or place, but it's happening fairly regularly now. It's not a big deal, really, they're not like they're _dating_ or anything even remotely close to that, no matter what Scott may say. Stiles just likes to have someone to tell when he sees something ridiculous on campus; Lydia just ignores his texts when he sends her random photographs of things and Scott's classes are fairly strict when it comes to phone rules. 

 _To Derek Hale 11:01_ \- _There's a guy walking in front of me with an owl on his shoulder. I'm pretty sure that you can't just do that._

_To Derek Hale 11:03- Update: The owl is looking at me. This has to be against some law._

_To Derek Hale 11:03 - It doesn't seem to be tethered to anything. This super is weird._

There's no response. Stiles sighs, sliding his phone back into his pocket. The owl hoots at him, like it's judging him. 

So what if he texts Derek, it doesn't mean he's _into_ him. Scott's ridiculous. 

His phone buzzes and he yanks it out. 

_From Derek Hale, 11:05 - Pictures or it didn't happen._

Stiles lifts up his phone, angling it at the owl, before he subtly tries to take a picture. The owl is staring straight at him and you can obviously see the back of them's head. He hits the capture button and his phone makes that obnoxious fake shutter noise. The man with the owl whips around and gives him a dirty look. Stiles puts his phone hastily back in his pocket and speed up, walking past owl man. Once he feels like he's far enough away he opens back up his phone and sends the picture to Derek. 

_From Derek Hale 11:07 - Well that's really an owl. What are you up to?_

Stiles frowns, it seems too early in the day for a booty call. 

_To Derek Hale 11:07 - Got a class, then thinking of going to seetwenty two jump street but Scott won't go with me and I don't think it will be as funny if I go alone._

_From Derek Hale 11:08 - I wanted to see that - what time is it showing?_

_To Derek Hale 11:08 − 5:30 or 8:30, your pick._

_From Derek Hale 11:08 - See you at 5.25._

Stiles shoves his phone into his pocket, before he picks up his pace and heads towards his office. 

He technically has contact hours from eleven till one, but none of his classes have a deadline within the next few days which means that he's unlikely to have anyone actually use his contact hours. 

He pushes open the doors to his office and sits down at his desk. There's a cup of coffee, and a cupcake sitting on it waiting for him. He has to share his office with two other grad students, a first year MA student called Kyle and a third yearPhD student called Cassidy who never seemed to be there.

"Thanks dude," he says, swinging around in his chair. 

"Your turn tomorrow," Kyle says without turning around. 

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles takes a bite of the cupcake and twists around in his chair, booting up his computer. 

He has six new emails, two of which are from Amazon confirming the order of penis straws that he had shipped Jackson's house, three of which are spam and one is from Lydia. 

 

_ From lydiamartin@gmail.com _

_ To thestilinskiator@gmail.com _

_Re: Holidays_

_Are you going to Beacon Hills for spring break? And if so have you booked flights?_

 

Stiles would always wonder who she killed for that email. 

He quickly hits reply. 

 

_From_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_To lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_Yes and no, in that order. Why?_

 

_From_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_To_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_You owe me $250, we fly out on the 16_ _th_ _and back on the 29_ _th_ _. Scott's flying back on the 23_ _rd_ _, but flying out with us, any problems?_

 

Stiles grins at the screen. 

 

_From_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_To_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_No Sir. *Salutes*_

 

_From_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_To_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_Don't call me sir._

 

_From_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_To_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_Love you too. Is Jackson coming?_

 

_From_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_To_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_Yeah, but arriving a week later._

 

_From_ _thestilinskiator@gmail.com_

_To_ _lydiamartin@gmail.com_

_Re: Holidays_

_Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

 

Stiles closes his email after that, knowing that Lydia's not going to respond. Instead he tries to be productive and opens up his thesis from the dropbox he uses to sync it between computers. 

He was right in his assumption that no one would show up to his office hours, but he uses his time fairly productively for once, actually getting some solid work done before his afternoon classes, which will make up for the fact that he's not going to get anything done later since he's going to the cinema. 

His classes drag on though and he finds himself zoning out far too much. Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet, and so gets into trouble when he's asked for his opinion and has to ask what they were even talking about, but eventually five o'clock clicks around and he's _free._ Stiles packs up his things as quickly as he can manage and is out the doors and heading towards the cinema. 

He stops at a 7-11 on the way, buying a load of cheap candy which he stuffs into his bag. There's a bottle of juice in his front hoodie pocket and he's aware that it's unsubtle but he's pretty sure that unless he's drinking or eating as he walks in then the ushers don't really give a shit. 

The cinema is another ten minutes walk, and by the time he's there Derek's already standing outside waiting. He's wearing jeans that are sinfully tight, and a leather jacket and Derek looks like far too much of a rebel for someone who owns a coffee shop and likes to read _Pride and Prejudice_ in his spare time and Stiles just wants to jump in right there and then. 

He swallows, and saunters up to Derek, grinning. "Hey, dude."

Derek raises an eyebrow and glances down pointedly at Stiles midsection. Stiles has an awful blinding panic, _shit, am I hard? Can everyone see that I'm hard? Fuck does just looking at Derek make me hard?!_ Before he realizes that no, in fact, he's not got a hard on, and Derek's looking at the bottle of juice he has stored in his hoodie. 

"They're not going to _care_ ," Stiles says in response to his look. 

Derek just shrugs, "Whatever. Let's get some tickets."

"Sure. Did you remember your senior citizen's discount card?"

"Are you sure you're old enough for this film?" Derek retorts as they step into the entrance foyer. As far as jokes go, it's a pretty bad one, but Stiles snorts in spite of himself. 

"You're the one fucking me, dude," Stiles says, which earns him a scandalized look from cashier. 

"Two for twenty-two jump street," Derek says, ignoring Stiles. Stiles goes for his wallet but Derek's already handed over a twenty and the woman's handing him back change. 

"Dude-"

"It's fine. I've got money."

Stiles shrugs, "Whatever. You want popcorn? My treat."

Derek says no but Stiles buys them both popcorn anyway. He takes a stab in the dark and gets Derek a sweet, which Derek starts to eat immediately. 

The trailers had already started by the time they got in so they slide quietly onto the end of the back row. It's not the film's opening weekend so the movie theatre is relatively quiet but there's a few groups of people. 

There are trailers still rolling so Stiles toes off his shoes and settles down in his seat. 

Derek wrinkles his nose, "What are you doing?"

"It's like two hours long," Stiles whispers. "I wanna get comfortable."

Derek makes a face at him, but doesn't say anything so Stiles counts it as a win. 

The movie starts up eventually and the two of them settle in to watching the film. It's funny enough to keep his attention and Derek seems to be smiling at least so Stiles think's he's enjoying himself. 

About half way through Stiles shifts his legs slightly and presses his knee against Derek's. Derek doesn't move his away, and Stiles can feel the heat of his leg through his jeans. 

He keeps their legs pressed together for the film, until the lights go up and they're both left blinking trying to adjust. Derek stands up first, stretching out his back and Stiles gathers together their rubbish before following Derek out of the cinema. 

It's still early, and they stand in front of the entrance for a moment, unsure of what to do. 

"Uh, do you want to get a pizza or something?"

"I could go for pizza," Derek says, glancing back to Stiles. "I think I have a discount code for Dominos back at my place, if you want to go?"

"Yeah dude, sure, lemmie just fire off a text to Scott..."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and quickly texts Scott to say that he won't be home for dinner. He locks his phone without waiting for a response and put's it away, looking back up at Derek. 

"So, to yours?"

Derek smiles, before turning and starting to walk down the street. Stiles falls into step beside him, and he can't figure out something to say, to fill the silence, but then Derek seems content to be quiet. 

They make it back and Derek orders them two pizzas and a portion of chicken wings to share. They end up sitting at Derek's kitchen table playing cards with a couple of beers for hours. Stiles talks a lot, telling Derek about all the ridiculous things that he and Scott got up to when they were young, and then some of the ridiculous things they did when they were not-so-young. 

"I can't believe you didn't end up getting expelled," Derek says, before glancing at his hand grinning, "Oh and I think I win."

Stiles scowls as Derek lays out his hand. "You're definitely cheating, I mean, you must be." 

"Just talent," Derek smirks. 

"It's cards, it's like 99% luck."

"Tell that to professional poker players," Derek says. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, "I can't believe you just compared yourself to a professional poker player. You're barely beating me at this card game that I'm _sure_ you made up."

"I didn't make it up, me and my family used to play it all the time when I was young."

"Well then your family made it up," Stiles decides. "It's not a real game."

"It's a real game," Derek insists, folding his arms over his chest. "You're just bitter 'cause you're bad at it."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Stiles says, holding up his hands. "That's an awful big claim. I didn't think I was doing too badly. "

"Stiles we've been at this for hours and you've won one hand."

"Wait- _hours?_ What time is it?" Stiles yanks his phone out of his pocket and slides the unlock button. "Fuck it's twelve already? I didn't realize it was so late. I should probably head home." 

Now that he's realized it he's suddenly exhausted, he yawns, before getting up. 

"You could always crash here."

Stiles laughs glancing over to Derek's couch, "That's kind dude,but that love seat you've got there is pretty tiny."

"No, I mean," Derek tugs a hand through his hair. "You could crash in my bed."

"Are you sure?" Stiles says carefully.

"Yeah, well," Derek shrugs. "It's not like we've not done it before. It beats you walking home this late."

Stiles observes him carefully, because they have slept in the same bed together but that was only the once, after that first time. Every other time they've fooled around Stiles had been very careful to go home, they needed boundaries. 

Stiles wants to say no, he wants to stick to his rules and go home to his own tiny bed and go to sleep, but Derek's looking at him with this perplexing expression and he's wearing the sweatpantshe changed into once they got back from the movie, and a loose henley and Stiles kinda desperately wants to cuddle up with him and go to sleep. 

He nods, swallowing hard, and Derek grins at him. His smile is fucking gorgeous.

"Right, I'm just gonna brush my teeth, I probably have a spare toothbrush if you want one."

"Uh, yeah," Stiles nods, voice slightlyshaky because this is crossing all sorts of boundaries and Stiles doesn't know what's what anymore. "Yeah a toothbrush would be good."

He follows Derek into the bathroom, and Derek roots around in a drawer before presenting him a fresh toothbrush. They brush their teeth in together, bumping hips, and Derek shoots him a grin in the mirror and Stiles almost drops the toothbrush. 

Once they've both spit and rinsed they pad through to the bedroom. Derek strips out of his top and pants, leaving him in just his boxers, and Stiles is just stood there, blankly staring at Derek because this is heart wrenching, Derek is fucking stunning and Stiles doesn't want to look away. 

"You okay dude?"

Stiles blinks, and shakes his head before reaching down to tug off his jeans, "Yeah I'm fine, just zoned out for a minute there.”

Derek nods before pulling back the sheets and diving into the bed. Stiles copies, deciding to leave his shirt on to have another layer between the two of them, and he should _leave._ He's done this before, he knows the outcome; they're _fuck buddies_ and if Stiles is having feelings then he needs to get the hell out of there. 

Derek switches off the light and then wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist, tugging him closer and _fuck_ , Stiles is so fucked. He can't believe that he ever managed to convince himself he wasn't interested in Derek because he's _so_ interested, he wants this every night, he wants date nights and arguing over card games and he just wants _Derek._ Snarky Derek who can cook and make a mean cup of coffee. 

Stiles should leave. 

Stiles should make his excuses. 

Stiles should stop this. 

He doesn't. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Derek wakes up at 7:30, which means that Stiles _also_  wakes up at 7:30, but unlike Derek, Stiles rolls over and goes back to sleep. Stiles rarely gets to sleep in anymore, so when he has the change he plans to take full advantage of that fact.

He manages to get a solid few more hours sleep, only finally waking up at twelve o'clock when his alarm goes off, but the day goes rapidly downhill from there. He's wakes in Derek's empty bed, staring at the ceiling as the previous evening just washes over him. He feels fucking sick and lonely and all he can smell is Derek.

_You're being pathetic_ , he thinks to himself, before forcing himself to sit up. He needs to get out of Derek's house and figure out how he's going to deal with this. He's twenty three, not thirteen, and he needs to start acting like it.

So he gets out of bed, and pulls on his pants. Scott had bailed on their weekly lunch, so the plans had fallen though, but Stiles grabs his phone and sends out a text to Lydia to see if she's still free.

Two minutes later her reply comes through. 

_From Lydia Martin, 12:07_ - _You're paying._

Stiles takes a deep breath, and tells her to meet him at her favorite restaurant in ten. He then forces himself out of bed, pulls on his jeans, heads through to the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth and comb his hair. 

He glances at his reflection. He looks pale and tired even though he has no right to be, not when he slept for a solid twelve hours. Lydia's definitely going to know something's up with him, but Stiles thinks that Lydia would know no matter what state he looked like. 

He grabs his coat and heads out the door, thundering down the stairs to the cafe. Erica's there, as well as a lot of people waiting impatiently for coffee so Stiles gives Derek a hasty wave, "Hey I've got lunch with Lydia."

Derek looks up, his expression slightly surprised before he nods. "Oh, it's Saturday." 

"Yeah, I'll see you later dude," Stiles says, crouching down to shuffle under the countertop. He pushes through the surprisingly large queue of people and steps out into the bright sunlight. 

Stiles’ gut is twisting. It's been so long since he felt this way about someone, he just wan't expecting it, he forgot how awful it could feel. 

Lydia's favorite restaurant, or at least, Lydia's favorite restaurant that was within Stiles’ price range was this small french bistro that had a damn nice and cheep house wine. He walks quickly and sees Lydia sitting at a table outside. She's got these big sunglasses on and her hair is braided up around her head, making her look as glamorous as ever. He smiles at her and gives her a wave, before he drops down into the empty seat 

It's not warm really, it's too early in the year for that, but it's been really miserable weather for the past few weeks and Stiles is just glad that he gets the chance to sit in the sun. 

Lydia pushes up her glasses and looks at him, her gaze is calculating, but he forces himself to keep looking at her eyes.She finally sighs, leaning back in her seat. "You look shitty."

"Long week," he grunts, grabbing the drinks menu off the table. He frowns before looking up at her. "How would you feel about ordering a bottle of wine or two?"

She looks back at him, obviously studying him carefully. He's not sure if she's looking for something in particular but she finally turns and lifts her head, catching the eye of a waiter. He hurries over and gives her a large smile. 

"Hi there, are you ready to order?" 

"A bottle of the house Pinot please," Lydia starts. "The special of the day for me, and for him the Duck Confit."

Stiles looks at her, "Do I not get to order for myself?"

"Were you going to order something different for once?" Lydia asks, tilting her head. 

"Well no, but-"

"That'll be all," she turns back to the waiter and hands him her menu with a smile.  

"What's the dealio with Jackson," Stiles asks, mostly just to keep the topic of conversation off of himself. "Are you two still fighting?"

"Not at the moment," Lydia says primly. "He apologized and we had great sex. It's what we do."

Stiles made a face, "Yuck."

"Yuck?" Lydia repeats, narrowing her eyes at him. She lifts up her finger and reaches over to prod him in the neck. " _That_ , Stiles, is yuck."

"Awesome yuck," Stiles mumbles, tugging on his shirt collar. 

And that was why Stiles had phoned Lydia. 

The wine arrives and the waiter pours them both a glass. 

"Scott and Kira are officially fucking, by the way," Stiles muses once the waiter's left. 

Lydia looks at him over her wine, with a calculating grin. "Really?" 

"Yeah," Stiles says, frowning because Lydia's still grinning at him and he can't figure out why- _ohhhhh._ "Oh come on! That bet doesn't still count." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I lost!" Stiles exclaims. "It's not fair, I'm Scott's best friend, I should know this shit."

Lydia just rolls her eyes at him and holds out a hand until Stiles finally sighs and digs a tenner out of his wallet. "God I can't believe you thought he'd take two years before hooking up with anyone." 

"Hey, it's not like I wasn't close, okay? I said that I thought I would finish my thesis before Scott moved on. I'm almost done."

"Almost isn't finished," Lydia singsongs, examining her nails. She's still got this shit eating grin on her face. Stiles lets out a groan of frustration. 

"You're the worst, y'know that? The absolute worst." 

"Just be glad I like you Stiles." 

Well, she does have a point with that. 

"So," Lydia continues, "How official are they?"

"Well," Stiles leans back in his seat, stretching out his back. "I came home to find them naked in the kitchen then they both had breakfast the next day. Also I'm pretty sure she's why he bailed on lunch today." 

"Urgh, Scott is always sickening when he's in relationships," Lydia groans. “All that love and adoration in one cute package? Completely intolerable." 

Stiles lifts his glass, nodding, until Lydia touches hers against his. 

"When did we get so bitter?" Stiles asks after he takes a sip. 

"I think we've always been this way, but it's matured as we got older," she says, swirling her glass. 

Stiles snorts, and they both grin slightly. He finally looks over at her and says; "Look, feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don't wanna talk about this, but I gotta ask. I know I make a lot of jokes about the Jackson thing, but, are you, y'know, happy?" 

Lydia purses her lips. "Yes," she says. "I... sometimes I wish I wasn't, y'know, cause he can be a dick, but then I guess I can too. We work together, Stiles. I like how we work together." 

Stiles nods, letting out a sigh, "Okay then, I just had to ask."

Their food comes out just after they've finished the first bottle of wine. Stiles looks across the table and lifts and eyebrow at her, "Another bottle?"

Before they even realize it they've drunk the second and Stiles has to have one arm wrapped around Lydia's waist to help her stand. They buy another bottle of wine at a seven-eleven, and Stiles realizes he is shamelessly drunk for two-thirty in the afternoon after the woman behind the counter asks to see his ID and he hands her the key-card to his office. Then they get a cab back to Lydia's house where they watch some terrible movie from the eighties about killer tomatoes and they drink every time the word tomatoes is mentioned. 

Derek is never discussed and it's exactly what Stiles needs.

 

#

 

Stiles wakes up in Lydia's bed. 

This in itself is not unusual. Lydia's couch is an unholy abomination that may look pretty but is, by _far_ , the most uncomfortable thing that Stiles has ever had to sleep on, and Stiles has slept on some pretty uncomfortable things. 

They usually top and tail, so when Stiles opens his eyes and sees feet in front of him he's not surprised but he fact that he can see feet, but more that these feet look hairy, large and don't have painted toes. 

He cries out, flailing in the sheets. He feels his foot connect with something squishy, and he winces. He's definitely just kicked someone in the face. 

Stiles sits up, frowning at the other end of the bed and there's defiantly another person sleeping between himself and Lydia, who is wrapped up under sheets and cursing. The bedcovers are flung off, and Jackson is sitting there, shirtless and obviously fuming. 

"Stilinski! You kicked me in the face!" 

"Jackson!? What are you doing here?" Stiles says, trying not to visibly wince. His head is pounding and his mouth tastes like the inside of a birds cage. 

"What am _I_ doing here?" Jackson fumes, looking almost speechless and slightly purple in the face. "Stiles, you're in my girlfriends _bed_!"

"God, we're not even sleeping the same way up," Lydia mumbles, shuffling under the sheets, "Will you both just shut up so that I can go to sleep? I feel awful."

Jackson gives Stiles a dirty look before he settles back under the covers and wraps an arm around Lydia's waist. 

Stiles grumbles and rolls over, tugging the blankets tighter around himself. "I swear to god, if you two start having sex, I'll-"

"THIS ISN'T YOUR BED!" 

"Both of you; _shut up."_

They don't wait to be told twice.

Stiles manages to get at least a few more hours of sleep before Jackson's leg twitches and he knees him in the kidney. Stiles retaliates by kicking him back, managing the face yet again which causes Jackson to swear and yell at Stiles until Lydia kicks them both out and orders them to put on the coffee pot. 

The two of them wander through to the kitchen. Jackson budges past Stiles, but then, in what Stiles supposes must be a white flag, offers to let him stay for a cup of coffee. 

"Uh yeah, coffee sounds great."

Stiles sits down at Lydia's breakfast bar. He's still wearing the clothes that he was wearing yesterday, minus his belt because, y'know, fuck sleeping in a belt, and his mouth tastes nasty but he doesn't feel like he's about to vomit imminently and he seemed to have slept off his headache from earlier so all in all it could be worse. 

"So," Jackson says, putting down a cup of coffee and sitting across the counter from Stiles. "Why did I come home to find you two completely hammered at eight o'clock at night?"

"You don't live here," Stiles grumbles, sipping his coffee. Jackson just lifts an eyebrow at him and Stiles should really mess with Jackson's eyebrows next time he passes out drunk. Stiles pulls his phone from his pocket and opens Evernote, jotting down the idea in his ' _Ways to mess with Jackson'_ notebook.

"Seriously though, eight o'clock dude?"

"Well we started drinking at twelve," Stiles says, shoving his cell back into his pocket. "To be honest I'm surprised we made it that late." 

Jackson's staring at him with a look that Stiles is sure he stole from Lydia, "You look like someone kicked your puppy." 

"You look like an asshole," Stiles grumbles into his coffee. "God, can't you tell when a dude doesn't want to talk about something? Lydia sure can."

Jackson's jaw is clenched tight, but he shrugs his shoulders and turns around to the cupboards, pulling out some bread. "You're not having breakfast here. You should go home, Scott's probably worried about you." 

"Why Jackson, I didn't know you cared so much," Stiles spits. 

He realizes, abstractly, that he's being even ruder than usual to Jackson, but he can't find it in himself to care. 

Jackson glared at him, before pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing that he had three new texts from Scott."When I say 'probably' I mean, defiantly because he _won't stop texting me."_

Screw what he thought earlier. He should be _more_ of a dick to Jackson. 

He chugs the last few gulps of his coffee and slams back down the cup, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm while keeping eye contact with Jackson. "Quick enough for you?"

Jackson just looks up as if he's asking for strength and sighs as Stiles gets to his feet. "Hey, tell Lydia thanks when she get's up. I really appreciated... everything."

"Will do," says Jackson. He struggles with himself for a moment, looking as if he wants to say something else but has always used up his nice-things quota for the day. Stiles just grabs his coat, puts his shoes back on and heads out the door. 

He doesn't have headphones with him, so he has to ride the bus in silence, which is always a delight. The particular bus he gets back to his apartment has this group of teenagers sitting at the back and Stiles can hear pretty much everything they're saying. Their problems seem so simple they're irritating to him, and he finds himself getting irrationally angry at this group of fourteen year olds by the time he gets off the bus outside of his house. 

Scott's sitting in the living room when he get's back, and doesn't seem surprised to see him. Jackson must've texted Scott to say he was leaving, Stiles thinks absently. 

"You okay?" Scott asks, not moving from the couch, but he's paused the film that he and Kira are watching. 

Stiles pauses in the doorway. He thinks briefly that he could lie, but he doesn't really see the point. "No."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

"You just gonna go to your room?"

Stiles nods, before he pulls off his coat and hangs it up on the hooks by the door. He tosses his keys into the dish, shuts the door and toes off his shoes before heading through to his room and falling onto his bed. 

He can't be bothered getting undressed or under the comforter, but he undoes the button on his jeans and pulls the blanket around himself, curling into a ball. 

 

#

 

Scott knocks on his door a few hours later, waking Stiles up from his nap. Stiles lets out a groan to let Scott know it's safe to come in. 

"Your dad phoned me, he says he's not heard from you in a few days and your phone’s off." 

Stiles frowns at him, before glancing down to his phone to find that Scott is indeed right, and that it's not switched on. The battery in it must've died. "Shit, my bad. I'm fine, I just forgot to charge my cell."

"He asked me to tell you to go on Skype," Scott says, not without a hint of sympathy. 

Stiles groans, burying his face into the pillow. "I don't wanna. I think my hangover's worse now than it was earlier."

"I'll bring you through coffee. And an aspirin."

Scott shuts the door and Stiles manages to unwillingly drag himself from bed. He slumps through to the bathroom and splashes water on his face before looking in the mirror. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but he was sure hoping that he would look better than he does. Scott pokes his head into the bathroom. 

"On a scale of one to ten, one being I've not touched booze in a month, and ten being the morning after that week in Mexico, how hungover do I look?" Stiles asks him. 

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I'd say a solid eight."

Stiles groans, head slumping against the mirror, and fuck the cold glass feels good against his face. He turns to press his cheek to the mirror, and grins. He's never leaving this spot, this is the best thing he's felt ever.

"God, how much did you even drink?"

Stiles slumps down to sit on the floor, leaning back against their bathtub and hugging his knees to his chest. "I don't know, a lot? I started drinking at twelve."

Scott lets out a low whistle as he sits down next to him on the floor. "Like, twelve pm, afternoon?"

"Yeah," Stiles sighs, resting his chin on his knees. "Me and Lydia went out to lunch and drunk two bottles of wine, then went back to hers and watched Netflix while playing drinking games."

"Oh," Scott says. "Well that'd do it alright."

"Yup."

"You should probably call your dad."

"Probably," Stiles nods. 

Scott gets up to his feet and offers him a hand up. 

"Do I have to?" Stiles groans, as he gets to his feet.

"Yes, be a grown up."

"We've just proven I am incapable of grown up decisions. Yesterday I started drinking at _twelve."_

"Well then," Scott says, rolling his eyes, "You should start making up for that." 

Stiles sighs, but Scott's definitely right, so he heads back to his room, opens up his computer and loads Skype. His dad's logo is green, and a call comes in almost as soon as Stiles logs on. 

"Hey, Dad," Stiles says as the camera starts to load. 

"So you're alive then."

"Sorry," Stiles sighs, hanging his head. "I forgot to charge my phone. "

His dad only has a desktop so Stiles can see his office in the background, like always. He's wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and he looks tired, "You can't do that to me kid. I usually hear from you at least every week." 

Stiles winces, the last time he messaged his father had been last Wednesday, it's been over a week and a half. "Sorry, I was going to call on Friday but then things just started getting away from me."

"Well," the sheriff says, looking at him and sighing. "You look terrible.”

Stiles snorts, "Thanks, Dad."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to-"

"Cut the shit, Stiles," his dad interrupts. "Something's obviously up and if you don't tell me I'm just going to find out, y'know I solve mysteries for a living." 

Stiles groans, "You need to stop using that 'solve mysteries for a living' line. Most of what you do is paper work and micromanaging," Stiles says, but he's grinning at his dad. "Not that impressive, honestly."

"I remember the time you used to brag to everyone that your Daddy solved crimes," his dad gives him a wistful sigh.

"I'm pretty sure you made that time up," Stiles retorts, rolling his eyes. 

They both laugh softly, and they're grinning, happy to see each other, even if it is just over Skype. His dad breaks the silence, "Stiles, if you really don't want to talk about it then you don't have to, but I'm kinda worried about the fact that you look worse than that time you and Scott came back from Mexico."

Stiles groans, "I don't even feel that bad." 

Which is a giant lie. As the day has progressed his stomach has started to twist to the point that the thought of food is making him feel sick. Also that headache has come back and he really needs to stop moving because it's making the pounding so much worse. His dad doesn't say anything so Stiles just sighs and leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This will be much easier without eye contact. 

"So I've been sleeping with this guy-"

"Oh god," says his Dad. Stiles looks back at the screen to find his Dad rubbing at his forehead. He looks up and motions Stiles to continue. 

"Right, so this dude, let's call him Eric."

"Or we could call him his real name?"

"Oh no," Stiles laughs, "Because then you'll just go and look him up online. Don't think I don't know you. So anyway we've been sleeping together, casually, y'know, and I've kinda fallen for him, and everything is awful." 

His dad blinks at him over the Skype, "Is that it?"

"What do you mean, _is that it_? This is my life, and I just want to cuddle him and have a lot of sex. It's heartbreaking. "

"It sounds like you're doing that already." Stiles frowns at his Dad over the Skype, hoping the disapproval will make it through the computer screens, but if it does the Sheriff doesn't care. "Why are you so certain thatyou're doomed not to have a relationship with this guy? You're a catch."

"Because we're just fucking dad, that's not how fuck-buddy relationships work!" Stiles whines, sounding like a petulant teenager. 

"Lord give me strength," he murmurs, pinching his brow between his thumb and finger. "Stiles, just... tell me how this thing started? Nothing too specific, but did you just sit down one day and go 'Let's have casual intercourse?’”

Stiles wrinkles his nose, "God, Dad-"

"You're the one who started this conversation. You think this is my idea of fun?"

"No," Stiles sighs. "I was working late on my thesis and he was there and he brought me a sandwich, so I said thank you and blurted something about finding him attractive and we've been screwing on and off ever since? Nothing was really _decided,_ one minute we weren't kissing, the next we were _."_

His dad is frowning at him now, "Stiles, did you ever formally say to each other ‘I do not want to be in a relationship?’”

"Well no, but-"

"Good lord," his dad says, "I've raised an idiot."

"That's not fair!" Stiles exclaims. "It was _implied_."

"Implied how?"

"Well the next morning he said ' _That was fun, lets do this again._ ' There was no talk of a date or dinner, and I mean D- _Eric,"_ Stiles tries to catch himself before he says Derek. He really shouldn’t have picked something that sounded so similar. "Eric's not good with words, he's not going to just go, ‘Hey you, I want to keep... doing the do, but don't want to take you out to dinner.’”

"Have you ever had dinner?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Have you hung out without sex?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I think you're over complicating this, son," His dad says, not unkindly. 

"I think you're over simplifying it. It's not... I mean you're not here, he doesn't like me like that I mean-" Stiles bites down on the bit of self-deprication that's about to come out, because he know's his dad, and that will just result in a fifteen minute pep talk about how great he is. "I just... I know him, and I'm sure that if he liked me I'd be able to tell, y'know?"

His dad sighs, "That's a point but, son, is it not worth even asking?"

Stiles groans, "Urgh, I don't want to be a grown up."

"Call me more," his dad says. 

"Eat less donuts. Don't think I don't have informants, because I definitely do. I know everything that's going on back in Beacon Hills."

His dad rolls his eyes fondly at him, "Okay Stiles, I'm going to need to go. Next time we talk if you could not be so detailed about your sex life, that would be great."

"Duly noted," Stiles fake salutes.

"Love you, son."

"Love you too."

The Skype call disconnects, and Stiles rubs at his eyes before glancing at the time. It's five o'clock in the evening and he should probably eat something, so he grabs his blanket and gets up, padding through to the living room. 

Scott makes him some dry toast and he manages to keep it down as he settles into the armchair and watches _How I Met Your Mother_ with Scott and Kira. He can't pay much attention to it, not when his brain just won't switch off. He's replaying every moment from the last month he's that he's spent with Derek, trying to recall anything where Derek said he didn't want a relationship, and he's... he's coming up _blank._

Instead he's remembering Derek making him dinner, and Derek paying for him to see a film, and holding him as they went to sleep. 

"Hey! Hey buddy," Scott's waving a hand to try and get his attention. "You there?"

Stiles startles, "Yeah?"

"Sorry you just... you seemed miles away. What were you thinking?"

"I just..." Stiles frowns. "I don't think it's hopeless? The me and Derek thing?"

Scott blanks, and then breaks out in a grin, "Thank lord, I was worried that you were going to just be stubbornly obtuse about it until you ruined everything."

"I wouldn't do that," Stiles says defensively. 

"Uh yeah, you would. You _have_ in past."

"That was one time!"

Scott blows a raspberry, "Pfft, It happened at least twice." 

"Lies," Stiles mutters. "You sit on a throne of Lies."

Scott rolls his eyes and smiles dryly "You want to get Lydia to settle this argument? I think she'll be on my side. 

"You're an asshole and I hate you," Stiles mutters, hugging his knees tighter to chest and tugging the blanket closer around himself, but he's smiling. He's hopeful.

This might work. 

 

#

 

Stiles has to force himself out of bed at six on Monday to start making up for the way he spent his weekend. He's already regretting the amount of time he spent drunk and moping because really, he's in his final year of his MA, he doesn't have time for that shit any more. Maybe that's what being a grown up's supposed to be; getting work done even when you're having a breakdown. 

He showers, eats cereal and sets off towards his office. It's too early in the morning for coffee; _Perk_ doesn't open until 7, so he resigns himself to a cup of the vending machine sludge and a Snickers. 

Kyle comes in at eight with two cups of coffee. Stiles doesn't know how Kyle knew that he'd forget to bring the coffee, or that he'd even be there that morning, but he doesn't ask. Kyle puts down the cup on Stiles' desk and holds out his hand. "Gimmie your wallet."

"This is a terrible mugging strategy," Stiles observes dryly as he tips back in his chair and lift up his hips so he can dig out his wallet. He hands Kyle ten dollars, "That cover it?"

"Yeah, that'll do."

"How'd you know I'd be here so early?" Stiles asks, turning back to his computer. 

"You left sharp on Friday, I knew you'd need to catch up," Kyle replies easily. 

 Well, he has a point. 

"How was your weekend?" Stiles asks. 

Kyle just lets out a long tired groan in response. 

Stiles snorts, "Yeah that pretty much sums up mine as well."

They don't talk much, but Stiles switches on some music and they work in silence. Their third officemate doesn't show up, and Stiles absently wonders if she's quit, or been thrown out. They probably would't notice. 

At twelve thirty Stiles decides it's time for lunch. "Kyle, you hungry, man?"

"I could eat."

"You wanna order take out?”

Kyle spins in his chair and grins at Stiles, "You are a brilliant man."

They order Chinese and have it delivered to the department, asking the delivery man to phone Stiles upon arrival and they have to play play rock-paper-scissors for who has to go downstairs to get it. Stiles loses because for some reason he _always_ loses at rock-paper-scissors and really he should just refuse to play it. 

He snapchats Derek a picture of his lunch, and writes ' _#healthylunch_ ' over it, more to let Derek know know that he's still alive, since Stiles usually visits _Perk_ like clockwork and he's not been there since friday. Derek sees the snapchat but doesn't respond which, Stiles muses, is not unlike Derek. 

He and Kyle go back to work, Kyle ducking out at two for a class, and returning at three with two cups of coffee from the vending machine. It tastes like sludge, but it's caffeinated sludge and Stiles pretty much inhales it between paragraphs. 

He decides he's had enough at seven. He can take a break, maybe do some readings by nine but he should go and talk to people and not stare at a computer anymore because he can feel the headache coming on. 

"You going any time soon?"

Kyle grunts, "I've got too much to do, I'll be here till ten tonight."

Stiles winces, "Don't kill yourself dude. Make sure you eat."

"Will do," Kyle says, not taking his eyes off of the computer screen. 

Stiles grabs his coat and his bag, before he takes off out the building. The sun's starting to set, and the sky is pink, and it's a nice night, really nice actually. Stiles enjoys the walk home. He's just in the door when his phone vibrates. He digs it out of his pocket to find a text from Derek

_Derek Hale, 19:02 - Do you have any bleach?_

Stiles frowns at his screen, before deciding just to phone Derek. It rings twice before Derek picks up.

"Stiles," Derek answers.

"Did you mean to text that to me? The bleach thing?"

"Yeah, do you have some?"

"Uh, I think so. Can I ask why?"

"Does it matter?" Derek says after a pause. 

"Well, y'know, it's an odd text, I just want to make sure that I'm not like helping you dispose of a body or something," Stiles jokes, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he opens up the cupboards under the sink. "I do have bleach, you need it right now?"

"Do you mind? It's not for anything illegal, I promise."

"Well, since you promised," Stiles snorts. "I'll just put on my shoes and be right over." 

As far as requests go, it's a strange one, Stiles will admit, but Derek must have his reasons, so he tosses the bleach bottle into a carrier bag, puts back on his shoes, and heads out the door. Derek's place is only a short walk away, but the wind has picked up so by the time he makes it his cheeks must be rosy with the wind. He steps into _Perk_ and raises a hand, giving Erica a smile. 

"Stilinski," she says dryly. "Nice to see you. Cold out?"

"The wind's picked up," Stiles shrugs, unbuttoning his coat. "I'm just visiting Derek."

"I assumed," Erica replies, lifting the counter so that Stiles can step past. "I'll see you later, get Derek to text me if you two want a lie in tomorrow."

"I don't think I'm staying," Stiles says, lifting the carrier bag into the air. "I'm just doing him a favor."

"Whatever Stiles, be safe."

Stiles rolls his eyes and heads up the stairs to Derek's apartment. 

He smells cleaning products when he steps in, the place is reeking of it. "Hey, it's Stiles," he calls out, as he steps into the kitchen. 

All of Derek's window's are wide open, and Derek is standing on top of the countertop in loose sweat pants and a gray t-shirt, scrubbing at the tops of his cupboards. Stiles realizes that he might have actually needed bleach. 

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Cleaning," Derek grunts, not looking around. 

"Are you having a breakdown?"

"No," Derek says, scrubbing particularly hard at one spot. "I'm not, I'm just-" He sighs, and sets down his sponge, before he gets down off the counter, and grabs a towel to wipe his hands, he looks back to Stiles and gives him a smile, "Sorry I'm not the best of company right now."

"That okay dude," Stiles says, setting the bottle down on the countertop next to Derek. "Have you eaten?"

Derek shakes his head, "No, uh, my sister is surprising me with a visit and she's coming tomorrow and she's just..."

Stiles frowns, glancing around the room, "Judge-ey?"

"No." Derek shakes his head quickly. "Protective. Concerned. She lives on the east coast and uh... my sisters are all I've got left. Laura, she's older so she worries, and because I'm out here by myself she worries extra about me." 

"Oh," Stiles says, furrowing his brow. That's a big thing to drop on someone, but then Stiles had kind of guessed that something had happened to Derek's family, considering he never really mentioned them, but had a framed family picture next to his bed. "I get you man, my dad's the same, we've only got each other now."

Derek nods and Stiles curses himself, "Sorry I didn't mean to make this about me, I just-"

"No, it's fine, it's... it's better than apologizing, y'know? Like when people say they're sorry for my loss, It's just-" Derek breathes deeply through his nose and looks up to the roof. "It's a shitty saying but then really, what else is there to say?"

Stiles nods because he gets it, they sit in silence for a minute before Stiles decides to change the topic. "So I'm getting the vibe that you're a bit stressed about Laura's visit."

Derek turns to glare at him, and Stiles just holds up his hands defensively, "I'm just trying to help. What else do you need to do?"

"Uh, the oven, the fridge and- oh shit the spare bedroom," Derek lets out a low groan, tugging a hand through his hair. "It's a _state_."

"Okay, well first things first," Stiles says, stepping over to the fridge and having a look to see what food Derek has. "You're eating something. Is that soup?"

Derek nods, "Carrot and coriander."

"Okay," Stiles grabs the tupperware from the fridge and sets it on the counter before he goes to grab a pot from the cupboard and turns on the stovetop. Derek has a gas cooker so it heats up fast. "Grab some bowls and bread," Stiles orders.

Derek grabs two bowls, and half of a baguette from his bread bin and heads over to the table. Stiles stirs the soup till it's boiling hot, grabs a heat mat and takes it over to the table. 

"I don't think I have time-"

"Eat," Stiles orders, ladling out some soup, first for Derek, then for himself. Derek sighs, and grabs a spoon. "Right, so look dude, I get that Laura worries about you but I'm sure that having a spot of dust in your place is not going to bug her." 

"I just... I don't want her to think there's any problems."

"And this isn't a problem?" Stiles asks with a smirk. "Dude, you looked like you were having a mental breakdown when I came in."

"I... I just got wrapped up in my own train of thought. It's not a big deal."

Stiles shrugs, before he slurps some soup. It's damn good soup. 

He could get used to this, to Derek. He likes the way they work. 

"So really, what do you have to do before Laura get's here? Is the fridge or the cooker all that vital?"

Derek looks like he wants to argue before he let's his shoulders slump, and shakes his head, "No, I mean, I think sorting out the spare room is probably the only important thing. "

"Okay, so then once we're done with this, I'll come and help you make your paperwork _look_ like it's organized, it'll take twenty minutes, then what, put on some clean sheets and hey presto, we're done?"

Derek nods, chewing on some bread. He swallows, "Thanks, y'know, for this. You didn't have to do it."

Stiles shrugs, "No big deal, so how long's Laura coming for?"

"About a week," Derek says. Before he pauses and looks up at Stiles. "I don't know how to explain... us to Laura."

Stiles freezes, "What do you mean?"

"Well, _us_. I mean, I don't really introduce someone to my sister unless we're dating."

"Oh," Stiles says, and the bottom drops out of his stomach as he realizes what Derek's saying. He can't believe the was so... so stupid, so _deluded_ as to think that Derek was into him."I get you, I'll won't bother you while your sister's up, that should make it simpler. Text me when she's out of town."

He forces himself to meet Derek's gaze, to pretend like nothing's wrong. Derek's expression is incomprehensible. Derek finally blinks, and looks away, swallowing. "That's probably best."

Stiles needs to get out of there, he can't spend another hour helping Derek clean his flat. He grabs his phone from his pocket and checks the time, but it doesn't really matter what time it is, "Oh shit, sorry Derek I didn’t realize it was so late. I should really get going, I've got readings to do."

Derek looks surprised, but he just nods and says, “That's fine. Make sure you grab a coffee before you go."

"It's fine," Stiles shakes his head, as he gets up to his feet. His stomach is twisting, he feels sick, he feels sick and stupid. He makes himself smile, and wave. "Have a nice time with your sister."

"Bye, Stiles," Derek waves back at him, looking slightly lost, but Stiles is already half way down the stairs towards the coffee shop. 

"Hey Erica," Stiles says, ducking underneath the countertop, "I'll see you later, I might not be in much the next week, but don't like, assume I've died or anything." 

Erica frowns at him, "What? Why?" 

"I gotta lot of work to do, I'll be going into my office to early in the day to stop by," Stiles lies, forcing himself to roll his eyes, "No rest for the wicked, eh?" 

Erica snorts, "Well take care then, I'll see you around.” 

Stiles turns and lifts a hand to wave as he walks out o Perk. He needs to get home, back to Scott and his warm bed and just pretend like this isn't happening and god, he can't believe he got his hopes up.

He makes it around the corner from _Perk_ before he collapses back against the wall and takes in a deep breath. He's shaky and panicky, and he can't believe he's getting this worked up over a _boy_ , but he still has to stand for a few minutes, trying to slow down his breathing. 

He dials Scott's number, and waits for him to come get him because Stiles thinks that if he lets go of the wall then he might just fall apart. Scott takes two minutes to get to him, and running around the corner wearing a tank top and pajama pants. His face softens as he spots Stiles. 

"Shit dude," is all Scott says, before he steps up beside Stiles and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Stiles clings tightly to him, letting Scott guide him back home. He makes himself drink some coffee when he gets in, then he forces himself to open up his computer and do some readings.He know's he's not going to sleep well so he may as well use the time productively. Scott knocks on his door at midnight to let him know he's going to sleep, but Stiles barely acknowledges him, forcing himself to keep his gaze focus on his readings.

He won't let himself fall apart, he's got more pride than that. 

 

#

 

"So," Scott says the next morning over breakfast, and fuck, Stiles knew it was coming. Scott just can't leave something like that alone. Which is probably a good thing, if Stiles is to be honest, since Stiles is prone to bottling things up and ignoring them, but he hates it right about now.

Stiles lets out a groan and his head flops onto the table, "I don't want to talk about it." 

"Can you give me a sparks notes at least dude? I 'm curious."

Stiles sighs, lifting his head off of the table, "I was talking to my dad and I got my hopes up that Derek might like me back, since, y'know, he'd never told me that he _didn't_ , but then when I went around last night he inadvertently made his intentions very clear. We're fuck buddies and that's all we'll ever be." 

"You need to beak it off," Scott says after a minute. "I mean, for your sake more than anything."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles waves his hand, before taking a sip of his coffee. "His sister’s in town anyway so I've got a week to think of an excuse other than 'I kinda want to hold your hand and share a milkshake with you.’”

Scott blinks at him incredulously, "Do you even know what relationships are?'

Stiles shrugs, and reaches across the table to steal a piece of Scott's toast. "I might be a bit rusty on the specifics, if anyone ever asks me out I'll read the 'Dating for Dummies' guide."

"I think that would be best for everyone involved," Scott says solely. 

Stiles blinks in surprise. "Rude! Anyway, how's everything with Kira?"

"It's... it's good man." 

"Is it official yet?" 

Scott smiles softly to himself, "Yeah. Yeah it is."

Stiles swallows down the lump that's forming in his throat, because not everything's about him and he needs to be happy for Scott. It's not like Scott doesn't deserve it more than most. "That's awesome dude, Kira seems great," he says, giving Scott a smile. 

"Thanks man," Scott says honestly. "If you need me, I'm here." 

Stiles waves him off, "It's fine, it's nothing-"

"Don't do that," Scott interrupts, shaking his head. "It wasn't nothing dude, and it's okay to be sad it's over with." 

Stiles sighs, and looks up, shrugging his shoulders, "I'll be fine. Honest." 

 

#

 

The next few days pass in a bit of a haze. Stiles buries himself in his work, which he probably should've been doing anyway considering how much of it he has. It's the week _before_ the week before spring break so everyone's starting to get stressed about the imminent deadlines. 

By the time Friday hit's he's had one of the most productive weeks he's had in a long time. Students are starting to come to his office hours, which is always a nice way to break up the monotony, even if it is just because they realized that they have an essay due in a week’s time. 

Sunday he's sitting watching cartoons in his underwear, while eating cereal, when his phone starts to ring. He's not thinking about Derek in the slightest.

"Stilinski," Jackson says when he picks up.

"What do I owe the displeasure, Jackson?"

"I'm inviting you to a party you ungrateful little twerp," Jackson huffs. "Tonight, my place, don't worry about booze and Lydia says if you don't come she'll make you regret it. "

The line goes dead with a click, and damn that was an ominous phone call. Stiles grabs his backpack and rings Scott as he's walking out the building. 

Scott answers by saying, “He phoned me too."

"Does no one say hello anymore?" Stiles muses. "I mean, it's a useful word. It was _made_ for the telephone."

"Me and Kira are thinking that we're going," Scott answers, ignoring Stiles' tangent.

"It's a _Sunday,_ the day of rest. Why is he having a party on a Sunday?" 

"I think he forgot it's the last week before Spring break. Wants to have a party since everyone will be in the midst of leaving next weekend." 

"Urgh," Stiles groans. "I'm tired. And eating cereal. And I've not showered."

"Well shower then; we'll meet you there in an hour an a half." 

"Hate you," Stiles grumbles, before hanging up the phone. 

God he hates Jackson's parties. 

He knows that calling in sick won't be accepted though and would just result in everyone coming to get him in person, and bitching like mad about it. So Stiles drags himself off of the couch and strips off his boxers on his way into the shower. Since it's not the morning he lets himself take a longer shower than usual, not having to worry about running out of hot water for once. He yanks on the pair of skinny jeans that are hiding at the back of his cupboard. He barely wore them anymore, since they were horrendously uncomfortable and not worth it but he knew Lydia would give him grief if he didn't at least try and dress up. He also pulls on a non-plaid button up shirt and combs his hair, so really putting out all the stops. 

Jackson's parties were always full of booze, he'd ended up president of his frat as an undergrad and certainly knew how to host a party. Well, a certain type of party; Stiles wasn't sure he could do anything other than a raging kegger, but then y'know, stick to your strengths and all that. 

Because he lives on the outskirts of the city, Stiles ends up having to take two buses to get there, which is not really what he wants to be doing. He can hear the music before the bus even stops, and he's going to need a lot of booze to get himself through this night. 

Stiles gets off the bus and starts walking towards Jackson's house. Stiles finds it just down right impressive that Jackson managed to convince this many people to get drunk on a Sunday, but then Jackson's parties have always been a thing of legend, no one wants to miss them regardless of the day. 

When he steps in the front door is the sheer smell of alcohol that hits him first and fuck, it's only ten o'clock at night how is the party already this full, it's just damn impressive.

Stiles heads towards the kitchen in search of beer. There's a punch fountain that he's not going to touch if you paid him, and a table full of various liquors and spirits, but nothing softer which is just _great_. He's honestly contemplating getting his picture taken and going home when he spots someone doing a keg stand on the patio out of the corner of his eye. 

He steps out onto the patio, waiting for the undergrad to finish their bad life decision, and he feels someone come up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He spins, and Lydia's there, looking impeccable as always. 

"How are you?" She asks. 

"Very uncomfortable and sober," he says, taking the cup from her hand and knocking back half of it in one go. "I hope you've not given me that mystery fountain shit. I really don't want to end up in the hospital. I've not really got the time right now."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "I mixed this myself, Stiles." 

He knocks back the last of the cup and then drops it to the ground. "Thanks." 

"Careful there, that's a few shots worth on it's own," Lydia cautions. 

Stiles waves her off, "I'm aware of where my limits are, Lyds. Just because I plan to ignore them doesn't mean I don't know where they are." 

Lydia narrows her eyes at him, "Well, I'm not carrying your drunk ass home." 

"I've got Scott for that; the guys got big shoulders, perfect for carrying drunken friends," Stiles says, before reaching out and grabbing the other cup from her hand and tossing that back. "I'm pretty sure if needs be, Scott could carry both me and Kira back on those things." 

Lydia sighs, "I'm going to ignore the fact that you stole my drink."

"That wasn't also for me?"

"No, Stiles, it wasn't."

Stiles shrugs, before stepping up to the keg and pouring himself a fresh cup of beer. "You know where Scott is?" 

"Beer Pong, where he always is." 

Stiles rolls his eyes, before giving Lydia a salute, "I'm gonna go see him then, thanks for the drinks." 

"You're not welcome," Lydia snips as Stiles turns and heads in the direction of the basement.

Beer Pong is always a big deal at Jackson's parties. Jackson had a pingpong table that he'd customized with markers for where the cups had to be set out and there was always a reining champion from the previous party. 

Scott had been the longest reigning champ, which meant that he could always be found defending his title from arrogant frat boys.

He opens the basement door, and the place is crammed with people and weirdly silent. He cranes his neck to see that Scott and Kira are in the middle of a game of beer bong and _everyone_ is watching. 

Stiles taps someone on the shoulder, "What's going on?"

"McCall might loose his reigning title," the guy shrugs. "That Asian chick has some serious skills."

Stiles frowns, before pushing his way down the stairs and through the crowd towards the table. The guy was right in that Kira obviously know's what she's doing. Scott's face is lined with concentration and Stiles looks at the table. Scott only has one cup left, but then so does Kira. Kira is stood with her eyes wide, obviously unsure what to do. 

Then Scott throws the ball, it arcs through the air and misses, clattering off the table. The room is crazy silent, like Stiles has never seen a party this quiet, but then Scott had been the reigning champ since the second year of his undergrad. 

Kira smirks, picks up a pingpong and bounces it down off the table. The ball arcs through the air and lands with a plop into Scot's last remaining cup. 

There's a rush of cheers, and someone has picked Kira up onto their shoulder, and is chanting 'ALL HAIL THE QUEEN!' 

Stiles steps over beside Scott and grins, joining in the chant as Kira gets carried away by a crowd of frat boys. Scott laughs and joins in too, pumping his fist into the air. Kira looks back and gives them a wave as a crown is put onto her head. 

The basement empties out, most of the party moving upstairs, and Stiles looks over to Scott, raising an eyebrow, "Sad to see your crown go?"

Scott laughs, "Are you kidding? Glad really, I'm sick of being challenged by frat-boy wannabes every time I come to one of Jackson's parties."

"You make a good point," Stiles nods, before glancing back to the table. He looks to Scott, "You want a match?"

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Stiles grins, moving to the other side of the table

Scott looks at him, before sighing and picking up a six pack and some new cups. "Well dude, you know how this ends."

Stiles does know how it ends, playing beer pong with Scott always ends the same way. With Stiles black out drunk. Stiles smirks across the table, "Bring it on dude."

Scott does. They set up their six beers each and on his first shot Scott manages to land one right in Stiles front cup. The then picks up his second ball and throws it into the same cup, and looks up at Stiles with a smirk. "That's three."

Stiles fishes out the balls and drops then into the water cup before he chugs his first cup. He puts it down, picks up the second, and then the third.

The beer is heavy in his stomach, but he ignores it and settles for picking up a pingpong ball and arcing it towards Scott's half of the field. Scott bats the first ball away mid air but Stiles bounces his second and manages to land it into Scott cup. 

The game goes quickly, Scott's too good to drag it out, and Stiles isn't quite stupid enough to play with ten cups. Kira appears just as Scott flings the winning ball into Stiles' last remaining cup. Stiles tips an imaginary hat, flicks out the pingpong ball and chugs his last beer. He needs to belch, badly but nothing seems to be coming out. He feels kind of sick really. 

Scott leans over to give Kira a quick kiss before he reaches up and sorts her crown which is sitting at a jaunty angle. "Well done babe," he murmurs under his breath, and she looks at him, beaming, and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him once more. 

"You two are making me feel sick," Stiles declares. "Well... more sick. I'm kinda sick already. That was a lot of beer."

Scott and Kira break apart and Scott eyes him carefully, "Are you okay dude?"

"Me? I'm fine," Stiles frowns, "Just out of practice. I'm gonna get some air." 

Stiles grabs onto the stairway banister and as he drags himself up the stairs, through the kitchen and out onto the patio. The night air is cool on his skin and he sits down on the patio resting his head in his hands. 

He feels ridiculously drunk for only having had some beers, but he burps up some of the gas which makes him feel less like he's about to imminently throw up. He hears heels clicking on the patio and glances up to see Lydia teetering towards him carrying a dark green bottle and a can of Red Bull. 

"Are you about to throw up?" she asks. 

"No," Stiles mumbles. "I'm just tired I think."

She smirks, before handing him the drinks. "Perfect, Jägerbombs it is then."

The ratio of red bull to liquor is unfortunately low and the drink tastes like ass, but Stiles throws it back none the less, and is immediately handed another. 

He looks back to Lydia and raises an eyebrow at her, "If I didn't know better I'd say that you were trying to get me drunk." 

Lydia rolls her eyes, "Trying? I'm succeeding, Stilinski, but lets be serious, you were getting drunk with or without me. I'm just making sure you don't drink too much."

Stiles throws back the bomb, and lets out a hiss. There must've been even less red bull in that one. "This is making sure I don't drink too much?" 

"I calculated it carefully, one more then you get a top up in an hour." 

Stiles sighs, "Well then, give me one more and let's get this party started." 

Lydia gives him a shot of the straightJägermeister, which looks awful but he tips it back anyway. It tastes as good as it looks, and he fights to keep it back down. Lydia pours herself a double and manages to tip it back without a wince. She then stands up and gives him a hand, "Are you coming?" 

He grabs her hand and lets himself be led onto the dance floor, he leans forward to Lydia's ear. "How does Jackson get this whole set up done?!'

Lydia twists her head around so that he can hear, "His friend Danny takes care of everything. He's good with electronics." 

Stiles nods and they push their way further into the dance floor. Someone's got a strobe light and the room's almost like a club. Lydia has stepped away from him and is dancing on her own. 

He doesn't know the music, at all, but the shots are starting to hit him so it doesn't really matter, he dances anyway. 

He ends up dancing with some girl he vaguely recognizes but can't figure out where from, until she presses up onto her tip toes and leans into his ear, whispering, "Are you still single?" 

Stiles pulls back with wide eyes, as the recollection hits him. He shakes his head quickly, which earns him a laugh and a kiss on the cheek before whispering, "What a pity." 

Stiles blinks at her as she heads away. He's not quite sure why he decided to say that but he doesn't want to start thinking about that anymore. He's got better things to think about. Like dancing, or why no one's playing any Ke$ha. 

Stiles voices that opinion to Lydia, who just rolls her eyes at him, before pulling out a phone and firing off a text message. Almost immediately the song merges into Tik Tok and Stiles grins, letting out a whoop.

"I love this song!" he informs her. "When can I get another shot!?" 

"Thirty minutes," she says, with a roll of her eyes. 

Well that seemed needlessly far away. Stiles felt _fine_. Lydia must not have taken in his unusually high alcohol tolerance. Especially for Jägerbombs. 

"I'm going to find Scott!" he says to her, before turning and pushing through the crowd. 

The crowd is hot and sweaty and it's a relief when he finally gets out of the dining room and into the hallway. He turns and goes into the kitchen, which has emptied out significantly from earlier, now there's just a few people chatting at one side and Scott and Jackson sitting with a bottle of Jack. 

"Yo, where's Kira?" Stiles says, putting an arm on the table to steady himself. 

"The frat boys have her," Scott says solemnly. "They are teaching her their ways. When we next see her she will be wearing a backwards baseball cap and yelling about sports." 

Stiles frowns, before shaking his head and hopping up to sit on the countertop. "Is that a bottle of Jack?" 

Jackson glares at him, but then finally lets his shoulders droop and hands over the bourbon to Stiles. "Don't backwash it." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Stiles says, before taking a swig. The whisky doesn't burn as much as he remembered it used too. Perhaps he's finally starting to like whisky. 

"Careful there Stilinski," Jackson says. "I'm not carrying your drunk ass home." 

Stiles hands the bottle back over to Jackson, but he leans slightly to far and has to jumpto the ground to stop himself falling off of the counter. He's pretty sure that no one noticed. "Of course you're not. That's Scott's job." 

Scott gives Jackson a shrug, "I'll get him if he's fucked."

"Don't go near the pool," Jackson says after a beat, before taking a swig his bottle and stalking off in the direction of the living room. 

"Rude," Stiles says. 

"He's right though, you might drown." 

"Rude!" Stiles says even more indignantly. "I'm abtho- ab _so_ lutely fine."

Scott grins, "Abtholutly?" 

"Fuck off." 

Scott is now fully laughing at him, which really is pretty mean. Stiles isn't sure that your best friend is meant to do that. "C'mon then man, let's go dance," Scott says as he grabs his hand and leads him into the party. 

There seems to be even more people than there was a minute ago, but Scott leads him to the centre where they find Lydia and Jackson in the midst of a frankly pornographic grinding move. Scott rolls his eyes at them before he starts to dance. The songs start to blur into one, but then they started out sounding pretty damn similar anyway. There's drinks thrust into his hand occasionally and he drinks them all, not even noticing the burn of the alcohol. He feels loose and his head wont work quite right. Everything's spinning and everything he's drunk is starting to kick in. He leans over to Scott and tells him he's going outside for a breath of fresh air, and pushes his way out of the crowd. He feels out of control, and it's horrible. 

He stops in the kitchen and forces himself to drink a pint of water but it twists in his stomach and makes him feel even worse. 

Stiles forces his legs to carry him outside and the wall of cold air hits him like a steam roller. He slips back against the door and slowly sits himself down. His head is swimming, he needs to go home, he needs-

"You okay there?" 

Stiles looks up to see Scott looking down at him. He's got someone hauled over his shoulder. 

Stiles shakes his head. 

Scott gives him a resigned sigh, and offers him a hand, Stiles grabs onto Scott's arm and yanks himself up. The he shuts his eyes, keeping both hands on the wall behind him. He feels like he's slipping but he can't even tell if he's really moving. 

"You okay?"

"I..." Stiles opens his eyes. "I don't want to let go of the wall."

Scott sighs and wraps his free arm around Stiles' waist. Stiles wraps his arm around him, and Scott manoeuvres them around the outside of the house. He can see that it's Kira draped over Scott's other shoulder, but her eyes are closed. "Is she alright?"

"She's breathing," Scott says. "I'll keep an eye on her." 

Stiles feels his feet getting more and more unsteady with every step, and he's acutely aware that he's not so much walking as being carried by Scott. "When's the next bus?" 

"Soon," Scott says as they step into the front garden. There's someone throwing up in one of Jackson's bushes and the bass music is bouncing. Stiles is surprised that no one's phoned the cops yet. 

They head towards the bus stop just as the bus pulls up. The driver gives Scott a dubious eye as he lugs on Stiles and Kira. 

"Three to Birch Avenue," Scott says, dropping some change into the machine. 

"If either of those two throw up on my bus you're cleaning it up," the bus driver warns him, before taring off two tickets. 

"Absolutely," Scott nods, before grabbing the ticket and heading to the first seats. He lays down Kira across two seats and her eyes open up, but they're heavy and unfocused. Stiles is then dropped onto the seats in front of her. 

"God, you guys couldn't pick different nights to get fucked up, could you?" Scott sighs, collapsing into a chair across the aisle. 

"I've got an... an excuse," Stiles says, waving a hand to gesticulate his point. "I needed to get drunk." 

Kira just hiccups and lets out a groan as the bus goes over a speed bump. 

The rest of the bus journey is relatively quiet. Scott hits the bell when the bus comes to a halt at the end of his street, and goes to haul Kira over his shoulder again. He offers Stiles a hand, but Stiles just shakes his head and stands up, to promptly lose his balance and fall to the floor. 

"Oh my god, just-" Scott said, before bending down gingerly and wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and lifting him up to get him off the bus. Stiles is pretty much dead weight, his feet dragging along the floor. They make it off the bus and Scott lets out a sigh of relief. "I gotta rearrange you two." 

"I can walk," Stiles says weakly, but then Scott's squatting down and pushing his shoulder into Stiles' stomach. "Whoa, bud, what-" 

He's lifted up and hoisted over Scott's free shoulder. He looks over to see Kira, who gives him a weak smile. 

"There, that's better," Scott says, before he starts walking towards their apartment. 

Stiles has no idea how Scott manages to make it back home with the two of them on his shoulders, but he does, and then he makes it up two flights of stairs and into the apartment before he squats down and lets them get off. 

"Christ, Kira, are you okay?" Scott says, getting up to his feet. 

Kira is swaying, with one arm reached out against the wall for support. She nods. 

"I should've," Stiles frowns, he's still sat on the floor. "I should've told Derek." 

He sees Scott wince. "Are you sure you want to talk about this now?" 

Stiles nods. "I just- He said that he didn't want me to meet his sis," Stiles frowns. "I miss his stupid face." 

"Let me put Kira to bed," Scott says. "Then we can talk about this, okay?" 

Stiles nods, and Scott wraps his arm under Kira's arms, before heading through to his bedroom. Stiles shakily get's up to his feet and goes to the bathroom, mainly out of a concern that his drinks are going to make a reappearance. He clicks the lock on the door shut and slides to the floor next to his bathroom. 

His phone bleeps in his pocket so he yanks it out and tries to focus on the message from Lydia, but the text is small so he just closes is it and is about to put his phone in his pocket when he spots an old text from Derek. 

Derek. 

He should call Derek. 

Stiles hits the favorites section of his phonebook and calls Derek's number. The phone rings out before sending him to answer machine so he hangs up and tries again. 

Same results

Stiles groans in frustration, and listens to the generic answering machine message that Derek has left. 

"Derek!" Stiles says after the phone bleeps. "I wish you'd picked up the phone, why wouldn't you pick up? You always pick up. Anyway! I was just phoning to say that I miss your penis very much, and I hope that we can be reunited soon." 

There's a knock at the bathroom door. "Stiles? Are you alright in there?" 

"Sorry, that's Scott," Stiles says into the phone, before turning and yelling at Scott; "I'm on the phone!" 

"Who are you phoning, Stiles?" 

"Derek!" Stiles tells back. 

There's a pause before Scott starts banging his fist loudly on the door, "Stiles?! Stiles, let me in!" 

"Rude, I'm talking to someone!" Stiles shouts, before shuffling the phone. "Sorry Derek, Scott's being rude. Anyway, dude, I've been wanting to talk to you about this, I guess I was being too much of a chicken-"

"Stiles!" Scott shouts. 

Stiles ignores him, "I think you're awesome. I think you're super awesome and I want to be introduced to your sisters and I want to go on dates and have lots of sex and paint bird houses with you, and do more than just this fucking without feelings shit we're doing." 

"Oh my god, what do you think relationship even are?" Scott calls though the door, desperation in his voice. 

"Scott's being an ass," Stiles says, loudly enough for Scott to hear. "I gotta go. Call me when you get this." 

Stiles hangs up the phone, and pushes himself up to his feet, staggering over to unlock the bathroom door. Scott is stood on the other side looking defeated. 

"In the morning," Scott says. "I want you to remember that I tried to stop you, okay?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes, "I'm going to bed." 

"Sleep on your side!" Scott calls out as Stiles stumbles through to his bedroom. He barely manages to take off his clothes before collapsing onto his bed and passing out. 

 

#

 

Stiles first wakes up to the sound of a car revving it's engine. It's still dark out, but his blinds are open and letting light spill in from the street lights. He also abstractly realizes he's naked, but he's also alone, thank _god_. His head is steadily thumping in time with the engine rev, and _god would that guy just shut up._ He rolls over and spots his phone sitting on his nightstand. He taps at it to try and see the time but it's unresponsive, he must've forgotten to charge it. 

Stiles rolls over and goes back to sleep, it's far too early for that shit. 

He tries to recall what happened, but his memories pretty blank. There was beer pong, and shots, and a lot of Ke$ha, but that's all he got. He doesn't want to move, his head just seems to be getting worse with every second and his stomach is awful, but he's parched. He needs water. 

He manages to stand up, albeit slowly, and pull on some sweatpants. He almost falls over when he bends down, and his head thumps every time he moves but he manages to wrap some blankets around himself, and shuffle through to the living room after he plugs his phone into charge.

Scott twists around when he hears Stiles and then blinks, before he laughs, "Oh god dude, I'm sorry for laughing but you can't see what I see."

Stiles flips him off before he shuffles to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. He's so thirsty but when he tries to take a drink it makes him feel like he might throw up. 

He grabs an aspirin from the cupboard and moves to the couch, sitting down slowly. He slips the pill into his mouth and takes a sip of water. 

"You look fucking white, dude," Scott observes.

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious. Why did you let me drink like that?"

"I'm not your keeper," Scott says, holding his hands up. "You're the one who insisted we play Beer Pong, I went easy on you." 

Stiles know's he's right, but then Stiles does have to blame someone about how terrible he feels. "Bull," Stiles mutters, tugging his legs to his chest. He shuts his eyes and winces as his head pounds a little harder. God how long do pain killers take to kick in even? The things are useless. 

"How much of last night do you even remember?" Scott asks. 

Stiles turns to him, and Scott is staying him with concern and _fuck_ , Stiles must've _done_ something. He feels sick, did he strip? Did he make out with someone? Did he offend someone? Barf on someone? He groans, burying his head in his arms, "What did I do?"

"Uh, don't freak out, okay?"

"I'm probably going to freak out." Stiles lifts his head. "The fact that you're saying that that means you think I'm going to freak out. God why did I get so _drunk?"_

"Well, you uh, when we came home you locked yourself in the bathroom and called Derek."

Oh _fuck_. He can vaguely remember that, now that Scott's mentioned it, but the details aren't clear.

"I called _Derek?_ Like the dude who owns _Perk_ Derek?" Stiles tries desperately.

Scott wrinkles his nose, "Do we know _any_ other Derek's? God, Stiles, yes, you called _that_ Derek."

"Don't get grumpy with me," Stiles pouts, "I had a lot to drink last night!"

"I'm very aware considering I was the one carrying you home," Scott says wryly. 

Stiles blinks at him, "Christ, I didn't even think about that, uh, thanks, buddy."

"No problem," Scott shrugs. "It was easy, I had Kira over one shoulder and you over the other. It balanced me."

"Are you joking?" Stiles blinks. "I don't know if you're joking or not. 

Scott taps his nose. Stiles defiantly owes him for making sure he got back safe. 

Stiles took a deep breath, "Did you hear what I said to Derek?"

"Some of it."

"Do I want to hear it?"

"You probably need to," Scott says, avoiding the question. 

"Alright, lay it on me," Stiles says, preemptively wincing. 

"Well, I heard a lot of 'I miss you, and you saying that you wanted to bone, but I think the main bulk of it was you telling him that you thought he was awesome and you wanted to date him and meet his sisters.'"

Stiles covers his face with his hands, and breaths out slowly, "Oh fuck."

"I don't know if this is good or bad news though dude, but you said 'call me when you get this' so it must've been a voicemail you left him? Maybe Derek doesn't check his messages?"

Stiles shakes his head, numbly, "No, he checks his messages pretty regularly. He's anal like that."

He sits for a minute, mind processing what had happened and he let's out a shaky sigh, "Well, I mean, I guess now I don't need to think of a excuse not to speak to him."

"It's probably for the best," Scott says, and sure, that's easy for Scott to say. 

Stiles is shaky but it's probably because it's three in the afternoon and he's not eaten. He get's up, "I'm going to check my cell."

"Yell if you need me. But not too loud; Kira's sleeping."

Stiles nods, and pads through to his bedroom, sitting down onto his bed and grabbing his phone. He waits as it shudders to life. He's not sure what to expect really, but his phone starts to buzz and vibrate, as it catches up on what happened during the night. There's several missed calls, a voicemail and a text; all from Derek.

_Derek Hale, 4:40am_ -PICK UP THE PHONE.

He dials the number for his voicemail with shaking fingers because that's not a _no_. Derek didn't text him saying that they should probably not speak for a while, or that he hopes that they can still be friends, Derek was trying to call him at four am. 

_"You have one new message,"_ The electronic voice says, then Derek's voice comes on the phone, he sounds... exasperated. "Stiles, would you just pick up the damn phone... I just..." There's a sigh. "I didn't want to do this over the phone! I don't... I- God you're _so_ infuriating sometimes. Call me if you get this. _End of Messages."_

Stiles blinks, because that fucking tells him nothing. Leave it to Derek to be Mr. Cryptic. He hits Derek's number and waits for the phone to ring, but it goes straight to voice mail and Derek _always_ has his phone charged, the thing is one of those bricks that takes a week to run out of battery. 

Stiles tries again, but the same thing happens. 

Stiles is sitting there, trying to figure out what must've happened when it comes to him. He must've blocked Stiles number. 

He reaches over to put the phone on the table, before leaning his head into his hands. He can believe he let himself _hope_ again, apparently he never fucking learns because this isn't the first time Derek's made him feel like he's ripped his heart out of his chest.

Derek didn't want to dump him over the phone. 

Derek doesn't want to speak to him. 

Derek doesn't want him. 

Stiles takes a deep, shaky breath. He needs to not fall apart, he needs to do something and be a grown up, so he decides that showering is his first task. He kicks off his sweats and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist before heading through to the bathroom. 

His and Scott's shower has shitty water pressure, and is always just slightly too cold to be comfortable, but he forces himself to sit underneath the dribble and wash himself clean. The water's pretty soothing, so long as he doesn't move his head to quickly or bend over; which makes trying to pick up the shampoo interesting. Once he forces himself out of the shower, because really he doesn't want to do anything, he dries off and pulls back on his sweatpants, and goes to the kitchen. 

He forces himself to make himself some toast, because dry toast is the only thing he thinks he'll be able to stomach. Stiles then goes over to the couch and sits down next to Scott, chewing slowly on the bread.

"You okay?" Scott asks. 

Stiles nods, but then shakes his head, "It's definitely over. He left me a message and I think he's blocked my number. But I'll be okay, I just... I got my hopes up a bit, y'know? Makes it a bit worse."

Scott nods, before leaning in and pressing his shoulder against Stiles', "There will be someone else. It may not feel like it at the moment, but you've been through this before Stiles, there will be other people who you like, and who will like you back, y'know?"

Stiles nods, swallowing. His throat feels thick, but he tries to ignore it, "I've just... it felt like we could be something. It felt like we could work. I've not had something like that in a while."

Scott just pats him on the shoulder, "When you're feeling less puke-ey we'll order take out. Also maybe check if Kira's still alive and feels up to Pizza."

Stiles winces, "She was pretty bad last night, huh?"

"On a scale from 1-10, where ten was Kira's level of drunk, you were only a three," Scott says. 

"Fuck. I'm surprised she's not been vomiting all day."

"I think she got most of it up last night, I was up till daybreak holding back her hair."

Stiles grimaces, "Man dude, that's rough." 

Scott just shrugs, and flips the channel. "It wasn't so bad, just kind of sucked to see her so sick." 

Stiles is about to open his mouth with some sort of sarcastic retort about how whipped Scott is, when he stops himself because, to be quite honest, if Derek had been throwing up because he got too drunk Stiles would've probably said the same thing, and that makes him a helluva lot more pathetic than Scott. 

So instead he just shrugs and says, 'Whatever floats your boat." 

They switch on reruns of Scrubs and don't really speak much, but Stiles is glad to have Scott there. 

Around seven o'clock Kira wakes, stepping into the living room on shaking legs and leaning against the door for support. Stiles snorts lightly, because he knows exactly how she feels, he's been there just a few hours prior. "Aspirin's in the first cupboard on your left in the kitchen."

Kira blinks at him as her brain starts to catch up to what he's saying, before she nods and slowly shuffles into the kitchen. She goes straight to the sink and downs a pint of water; her stomach must not be giving her as much grief as Stiles' was. 

"Kira?" he yells, "Are you hungry?"

She looks back to them both on the couch, musing it over. "I think so."

"If we order Dominos do you want us to order you something?" Scott asks kindly. 

Kira nods before coming over and settling down on the armchair. "Sprite. Please."

"Any food?"

"Potato wedges," she gives them a wide smile.

"Okay," Scott says, before turning to Stiles, "What about you?" 

"I think she might still be drunk," Stiles says, ignoring the question. 

"I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, to eat Stiles, what do you want to eat?"

"Uh, pepperoni please dude, c'mon, you know my pizza topping.”

Scott nods, and grabs his phone, tapping open the Domino's app and placing their order. "God I love technology," Scott says when he's finished. "You guys still okay with watching Scrubs?"

Stiles nods, slouching further down on the couch and putting his feet up on the table.

They're halfway through the episode when there's a knock at the door, Stiles looks to Scott, "That seems too quick."

"Maybe it's a slow night," Scott shrugs, getting to his feet. 

"You need cash?" 

"Nah, I paid using paypal," Scott says, heading towards the door. The door opens and Stiles hears him say " You're not Dominos."

Stiles cranes his neck back to see who's there, and is created by the sight of two police officers, who are chuckling softly at Scott. Stiles gets up to his feet, and is incredibly glad he put on a shirt when he got out of the shower. "Sorry officers, we were expecting pizza." 

"Uh yeah, sorry about that. What can we help you with?" Scott asks. 

"Sorry to disturb you boys, there was a hit and run accident on the road outside here last night and we're just checking to see if anyone had seen anything about it. Were either of you awake between approximately five and six am?”

Stiles shakes his head, he was passed out by then, but Scott's frowning, "Uh, I might have been? My girlfriend was pretty... sick, and I was holding back her hair. I think I heard sirens if that's helpful? But I didn't go out to look."

The cop nods, jotting something down on his pad. "So none of you were out at that time?"

"No, we got home at half three," Scott says, more confidently. "I'm sorry we can't be more help officer." 

"Don't worry about it. If you hear anything, please give us a call."

Scott is handed a card and the cops turn to walk away just as the Dominos delivery boy makes his way up the stairs, holding their pizzas. The cops turn and give them a grin before they leave. 

"Uh, order for Scott McCall?" 

"Yeah, that's me," Scott says, taking the box, tipping the guy a couple dollars and shutting the door. "I hope that everyone's alright."

"What?" Stiles frowns.

"The accident, last night I mean. I hope everyone's okay. "

Stiles shrugs and reaches out to grab one of the pizza boxes. "Not our problem dude. Now come on, I'm _starving."_

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

While Monday may have been a write off due to the epic hangover he was rocking all day, Stiles actually needed to go to his classes on Tuesday. It's the last week before the holidays, and two days before his undergrad's essay deadline, so it's guaranteed that they'll show up to his office hours for once. Stiles manages to drag himself out of bed, get showered, and get himself out the door on time. He stops at Starbucks on the way to pick himself and Kyle up some coffee; the queue is out the door, everyone seems to be younger than him, and their conversations are weirdly infuriating. He's starting to hate undergrads, and also Starbucks.

Even though he makes it to his office on time for office hours there’s already two people waiting outside the door for him. He sighs when he spots them. "Can you give me like ten minutes to get sat down and everything switched on?"

"Sure, Mr S." grins the first kid, and Stiles just knows that this day's going to be a bitch. 

He steps into his office and drops one of the coffees onto Kyle's desk. Kyle doesn't look up at him, but he does make a noise.

"What?" Stiles asks, if only a tad bit sharp. 

"Not the usual place you go for coffee."

Stiles decides that ignoring him is the best idea, and turns on his computer before sitting down at his desk. He takes a sip of his drinks as the PC loads, and the coffee's surprisingly not half bad. It’s not half good either, but he needs the caffeine and it certainly has that in abundance.

“Y’know there's a queue of people outside the door?"

"I'm aware," Stiles says through gritted teeth, and _fuck,_ he can't be bothered with any of this. "I'm just sitting down for two minutes, okay?"

"Hey dude, I'm just saying, y'know, I'm not the one who's gonna get chewed out in the end of semester reviews," Kyle says.

"Yeah well it's two days before the deadline, they should've come earlier," Stiles grumbles. His computer finally logs in, and he opens up his emails but there's nothing of interest. "Also I'm graduating in a few months, so fuck it all."

"Hopefully," Kyle adds. "You're _hopefully_ graduating.” 

"Bite me," Stiles growls.

He goes to the door and calls the first guy in. While he was booting up his computer someone else has joined the queue. 

Fuck his life.

 

 #

 

He ends up spending another hour after his office hours have finished, resisting the urge to bang his head against the desk as his students ask him painfully basic questions. He then spends two hours that evening on his computer answering mostly the same questions about referencing and word counts until he finally has enough and sends out a mass email to his entire group with the information, along with a PS that he's going to bed and will answer any new questions emailed to him in the morning.

He goes to the kitchen and puts a mug of milk into the microwave, if he has coffee he'll be up for another two hours and he'd rather go to bed early and get up early than stay up late and sleep in. 

"You gonna go to sleep dude?" Scott asks. 

"Yeah, I just want this week to be over," Stiles sighs. "My students are driving me up the wall. I swear to god this lot are dumber than usual; I went through all this shit with them during the term but _apparently_ no one was listening. Also, earlier I sent out a mass email with pretty much an FAQ, and I can guarantee you that by tomorrow night at twelve I'll have at least two more emails asking me the same shit."

“You haven’t got much faith in them," Scott observes. 

"That's because they're all idiots," Stiles says, running his hands over his face. He pauses, "Well, bar two maybe who seem to have their shit together." 

The microwave beeps and he pulls out his mug, dumping a sachet of chocolate powder into it. "If I'm not around in the morning knock on my door, make sure I'm awake."

"Will do, man," Scott says, giving him a salute before turning back to his textbook. 

Stiles walks carefully back to his room, before stripping out of his jeans and pulling on a baggy T-shirt he used to sleep in. He falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, not even managing to drink any of his hot chocolate. 

 

#

 

Stiles hates mornings with a passion. It's seven and he's already out of bed with a mug of coffee and his email open, answering the ones that had gathered over the night. His phone starts to ring and he answers without looking. 

"Yo, you've got Stiles,” he stiffs a yawn.

"Hey, it's Lydia."

Stiles frowns. "Lydia, why are you calling me at seven in the morning?”

"I knew you'd be up," she says. "I'm organising stuff for getting home and this suitcase limitation seems ridiculous. Can I put some things in your luggage?"

Stiles frowns, "Is that the best reason to be calling that you could come up with Lydia?" 

"It's early, she retorts. "I'm not at my best, so sue me."

"Why are you really calling?" Stiles sighs.

"Just checking in with you,” she says, before hesitating. “You drank a lot on Sunday."

"Well it was a party at Jackson's. I always drink a lot, it's the only way I can put up with being around such a giant douche," Stiles snips. Christ, he's being a dick again but he just can't seem to stop himself. "I'm sorry, that was mean. I'm just tired."

"Consider it forgotten," Lydia says. "You holding up though?"

"Yeah," Stiles says. "I'd be a lot better if undergrads would actually _read_ the emails I sent them, but yeah I'm doing okay."

"And that is why I'm not a TA," Lydia says. 

"Fuck you."

"Language," Lydia scolds. "Anyway I'll pick you up Sunday at four am to get to the airport."

"Wait, four _am?!_ I thought you said we were flying in the afternoon," Stiles groans. 

"I said no such thing, and also I sent you a copy of the tickets so you can't go blaming me for this. I'll talk to you later Stiles,don't throttle any of your students."

"I'll try," he promises before the line goes dead. 

He goes back to trying to reply to one of the emails without sounding like a dick when Scott pads out of his room. 

"Good to see you're up," Scott yawns. 

"Yeah, yeah, it's a brand new day, the sun is shining, all that jazz,” Stiles waves a hand absently. “More importantly, how do you say 'If you'd done the required reading then you'd be finding this a lot less time consuming' without sounding like a dick?" 

"I don't think there's a way," Scott frowns. 

"Dang," Stiles says. "I'm just going to have to be a dick then."

"You are going to have the _worst_ feedback."

Stiles shrugs, not taking his eyes off of the computer. "I'm graduating in a few months, fuck them."

Scott rolls his eyes and sets down at the table just as Stiles shuts his laptop. "Don't kill anyone," Scott warns him. 

"Funny," Stiles says, stuffing the laptop into his bag. "That's what Lydia said."

"They won't let you graduate!" Scott calls as Stiles heads towards the door. 

"I'd like to see them try and hold me back from graduating," Stiles says with a laugh. "It'd like to see them _try._ " 

He shuts the door and thunders down the apartments stairs and starts his walk into town. Spring seems to have properly started and the wind isn't quite so cold. He heads towards Starbucks again, because it's on the way to his office, and comes to an abrupt halt across the street from the store. "Fucking hell," he mutters to himself. The line is out the door. "Fucking... fuck."

The way he saw it he had three options; number one, he could wait in that massive queue; number two, he could drink the sludge from the vending machine or number three... 

Number three he could go to _Perk._

He had no reason not to, other than the possible awkwardness. It's probably the more grown up thing to do, considering that he hates Starbucks and needs a cup of coffee every day. It's not like _he's_ the one who wronged Derek or anything. Derek's the one who blocked his number. 

Stiles turns himself around and heads in the direction of _Perk._ Erica should be working this morning anyway, he probably won't even see Derek, and even if he does then Derek will just have to deal. 

 _Perk_ is exactly as he remembered it, with the overwhelming coffee smell and a few regulars that Stiles recognizes sitting having their morning cup of coffee. Erica's wiping down the coffee machine when he walks in but she puts down her rag and turns to him. She looks confused, and like she's pitying him slightly. 

Stiles frowns at her, "What? What's with the face, Erica?"

She sighs, "Nothing. You want a coffee?"

"Please," he bites back the sarcastic response. 

Derek isn't working, so that's a blessing. Stiles drums his fingers along the counter while Erica makes up his coffee.

"There you are," she says. Stiles digs out his wallet, but she just shakes her head, "Not today Stiles, it's fine."

"I don't want..." Stiles struggles for the word, "Charity."He tries to push a fiver at her but she just crosses her arms over her chest. 

"I'm not taking your money Stilinski, okay?" Erica rolls her eyes, "God I try to be nice when you're having a hard time and this is what I get."

"Well, you suck at it," Stiles says, frowning. Is it that obvious that he's in the middle of deadline hell? Maybe Derek told her about how he phoned him up drunk and started waxing poetic about his abs. Stiles doesn't know for certain that he did that during their phone call, but it's probably a safe bet that they came up at some point.

Erica snorts and her expression softens, "Are you on your way to see him?"

Okay, Stiles has officially lost track of this conversation. His brow crinkles, "What?"

"Derek," She says, tilting her head. "Are you going to see Derek?" 

"What? Why would I be going to see Derek?" 

"It's not an outrageous assumption," Erica says. "I mean I know you two weren't... official or anything but youwere fucking besotted over him. I mean, you were besotted with each other."

"I'm really confused about this conversation," Stiles says, taking a step back. "I've not spoken to Derek recently, he blocked my number."

Erica's face twists, and her mouth drops open, "What?"

"I said, I've not spoken to Derek, he left me a cryptic message and blocked my number, okay?!"

"Oh fuck, Stiles, I figured someone had told you," Erica looks horrified, and close to tears. He's never imagined Erica as someone who could cry, and the way her eyes are sparkling is quite frankly terrifying.

Oh fuck. 

"Assumed what?" Stiles asks slowly, trying to keep his voice even, but there's this knot in his gut. Something's wrong, oh god, he's spent the last few days pissed at Derek for dumping him but Erica's got tears in her eyes and Stiles is missing something vitally important. 

"Derek," Erica says, but her voice is shaky so she stops, and takes a deep breath before continuing. "Derek got hit by a car."

Stiles' grip on his coffee cup tightens, "What?"

"He... it was an accident, on Monday morning he got into a hit and run accident. I..." She swallows again, glancing up towards the light and blinking, "Someone called an ambulance, uh, they think it was probably the driver."

Stiles feels numb, he feels sick and _fuck_ , Derek got hit by a car. 

"-He was picked just before five o'clock on Monday morning, no one's knows why he was out at that time."

Stiles realizes that Erica didn't stop speaking, and he looks up at her, "What do you mean, 'no one knows'? Derek knows, surely?"

Erica's hands are shaking slightly,it's probably not fair to ask her all these question, Stiles thinks, Erica has to keep working after this, and this is her boss she's talking about. She's worked with him every day for years. 

"He's... they've put him into a medically induced coma," Her voice cracks towards the end. "I don't know anything really, Laura just phoned me on Monday to ask if I could take care of the shop until they figure out what to do." 

Stiles feels sick. "I need to go, I need- Where is he?" 

"He's at the Memorial Hospital, in the ICU. You'll probably need to talk to Laura before they'll let you in to see him, I'll just give you her number-"

But Stiles is gone though, running out of the shop because Derek's in a _coma_ , he's not going to sit around and call his sister, he just needs to get there.

He runs down the street towards the cab stand, and jumps into the first car that he sees. He feels sick, his mind is racing and he can't believe that Derek's in the fucking _hospital._ Stiles didn't even stop to think something might have been weird about Derek asking him to call him back and then blocking his number. He drags a hand through his hair and takes in another shaking breath, focusing on his breathing to fight off the panic attack that he's worried is coming.

"Whoa, you okay there?" The cab driver chuckles. 

Stiles shakes his head, swallowing down on the lump in his throat. He feels like someone's gutted him, "Uh, the hospital please. I need to go to to the Memorial Hospital."

The driver obviously gets that Stiles isn't in the mood for light hearted banter, so he steps down hard on the pedal. They make it there faster than Stiles thought possible and Stiles gives him thirty dollars before pushing out the door and running towards the hospital. 

It kills him, but he slows down his pace when he get's to the hospital. He pulls out his phone to switch it off when he remembers that he's meant to be taking a tutorial in twenty minutes time. He calls Kyle.

"Kyle, man, I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain, but can you take my tutorial for me today?" Stiles asks, trying to not sound too frantic. 

"Uh, sure?" Kyle pauses. "Are you okay, Stiles?" 

"Physically? Yeah," Stiles says. He's jittery, and he can't stop his hands from shaking. "Look, I'm not going to make it in today or tomorrow, and I know this is a big favor but can you just give my undergrads your email address please and help them with this essay? I can't-" his voice cracks. "I can't-"

"Whoa, man, stop." Kyle says. His voice is firm and Stiles does as he says, taking a deep breath. He squeezes his fist tight, his nails biting into the palm of his free hand and he closes his eyes as Kyle tries to talk him down. "I'll get everything with your undergrads, don't worry about it. If you want, you could give me your email password and I'll set up an automatic response to say that you're out of the office and to forward anything to me if they need to get in touch. Does that sound good?"

Stiles nods, and then realizes that Kyle can't see him, "Yeah, uh yes. My password, it's I-P-2-then a dollar sign-J-J-H-7," Stiles spells out. "The class is in tutorial room 302."

"Okay dude, I've got everything sorted on this end. You can go, it'll be fine."

"Thank you," Stiles says shakily. His adams apple still feels abnormally large and his stomach feels like it's on the fast cycle. "Thanks."

"I'll email your supervisor and say you might be AWOL for a few days."

"Thanks," Stiles says, it's all he can say really. "I gotta go." 

"Take care," Kyle says, but Stiles already hanging up the line and then hitting the power button. 

He stuffs his phone back into his pocket, and rubs a hand over his eyes, then takes a deep breath, stepping through the doors of the hospital. If he was at home in Beacon Hills then he would know where everything in the hospital was but, thankfully he supposes, he's never had to visit this hospital before. He steps up to the reception desk, bracing his hands on it for support. 

"Yes, can I help you, sir?" 

Stiles swallows, "Uh I'm looking for the ICU? I... My brother's in here and I can't get in touch with our sister. I don't know where I'm going."

The receptionist gives him a sympathetic smile, and Stiles was so used to those smiles it takes him right back to when he was nine years old. He needs not to think about that right now, he needs to focus. Derek's going to be fine. 

"There's a few different sections, do you know which one your brother's in?"

Stiles shakes his head. "No but, uh, he's Derek Hale,he was in a car accident, and... and..." 

Stiles is tugging on his hair with both hands, trying to stop himself from shaking. He can't catch his breath, his chest it too tight, he can't-

 _One. Two. Three._ He forces air into his lungs, and counts his breaths. He's aware that there's now a nurse standing next to him but he ignores her, concentrating on his breathing. _Four. Five. Six._

By the time he get's to fifteen he doesn't feel quite so much like he's going to die. He looks up at the nurse and gives her a shaky thumbs up, "Don't worry, I've had them before, I know how to deal."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just..." Stiles lets out another shaking breath. "It's been a long day."

The nurse looks to the receptionist. "Where's he looking for?"

The receptionist rattles off a wing name and room number, that the nurse obviously recognizes. "I'll walk him there."

"You don't have to-" Stiles says weakly, but she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. 

"Don't worry about it. I was only doing boring things anyway. Gives me an excuse to stretch my legs," she gives him a grin. "C'mon then, let's go see... your brother is it?"

Stiles nods, and resists the urge to hug the nurse. She reminds him a lot of Scott's mom, not in looks since this nurse is about ten years younger and Stiles think's she's Indian, but her mannerisms. He get's a sudden wave of homesickness, and fuck, he was meant to be going home on Sunday. That's not going to happen now; He needs to talk to Lydia. 

"Hey, " the nurse snaps a finger in front of his face, "Don't go getting lost in your head again, okay? One thing at a time."

Stiles doesn't trust himself to speak, so he nods, and gives her a smile, albeit a small one. 

"I'm Nurse Kadam, but you can call me Kim if it makes you feel better." 

"I'm Stiles," Stiles manages to squeeze out. 

"It's nice to meet you," Kim says, directing him into an elevator. She hits the button for the fourth floor and they stand in silence as the doors close. Stiles clenches his hands together and looks up at the bright lights. 

"It's going to be okay," he mutters to himself. 

Kim says nothing, but then she hasn’t read Derek's chart, and she's probably not about to reassure him that everything will be fine while escorting him to the ICU. 

"Have you been in an ICU before, Stiles?" Kim asks him as the elevator comes to a halt. 

The doors slide open and Stiles gives her a nod, "Yeah, uh, my mom, when I was younger..." He trails off. He doesn't need to finish that. 

 _This is different_ , he tells himself as he fall into step behind Kim, but it's not convincing him. All he's thinking about is how similar it all feels to the last time he rushed to the hospital to see his mom. The smell of disinfectant is overwhelming, so Stiles tries to remember to breath through his mouth. 

They stop at a doorway with a buzzer and a lock, Kim reaches to the left and squirts some disinfectant from the wall dispenser and Stiles copies her movement, trying to ignore the sting as the alcohol bites at his hangnails. 

Kim hits the buzzer for the intercom, there's a second before another nurses's voice comes over the speaker. 

"Hey there, it's Nurse Kadam, from Cardiology. I've got a Stiles Hale here, he's Derek Hale's brother. It's his first time visiting, you might not have his name down."

There's a pause before the doors click open. Stiles steps forward, and pushes open the door. He glances back to Kim who's giving him a grim smile. 

"Thank you, y'know, I really appreciate it." 

"I hope everything works out," Kim says. 

Stiles hopes that too. 

He turns back around and steps through into the ICU. The room is circular, and although most of the beds have curtains drawn around him the first bed on his right is empty. He forces himself to take another deep breath and walks up to the nurses station. "Uh I'm Stiles, I-"

"Derek Hale's in bed five. Your sister's been briefed already on his condition, but do you have any questions?" 

Stiles shakes his head, and this all seems far too easy. He thought he would have to show proof or something, but no one's asked him for anything. Stiles glances over in the direction the nurse had pointed, the curtains are drawn, "Uh, actually, is Laura there?" 

"No, uh, we suggested she go home," the nurse says. "She was falling asleep by his bedside." 

"Oh," Stiles says.

"She kicked up one hell of a fuss though," she gives him a small grin, "Your family sure are fighters."

He nods because he's not really sure what to say to that. The nurse tilts her head sympathetically at him, "Do you need me to come with you?" 

Stiles shakes his head, "No, bed five, right?" 

She nods, and Stiles turns, heading over in the direction she'd pointed. He pushes aside the curtains slightly and steps into Derek's small section. 

It's simultaneously worse and better than he was expecting. He's obviously not sleeping or anything of the sort, but he's lying still with his eyes closed, and he doesn't look particularly pale or small like Stiles was expecting. They've hooked him up to a ventilator, there's an IV tube coming out the back of one of his hands, and a pulse monitor over one of his fingers. Stiles swallows hard, and forces himself to walk forward to the chair by Derek's bedside. The side further away is covered in cuts and scrapes, and he's got a cast from his elbow down, but the side near the chair is almost normal, y'know, aside from all the tubes sticking out of it.

"Shit Der," Stiles mumbles, giving a faint laugh. Derek's heart monitor beeps steadily, which is reassuring. He sets his hand down on the bed and wraps his fingers around Derek's, careful of the IV's. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit. I thought... thought you'd cut off contact with me. After what I said. I mean, that was stupid, I know that now, you wouldn't just cut off contact without a word, you're not that much of an asshole." 

Derek's hand squeezes his. 

Stiles blinks, looking up from his hand towards Derek's face, where Derek's eyes are steadily opening. "What?! Nurse!" 

He slams the call nurse button, jumping up to his feet and pulling his hand away. Derek's eyes are open and Stiles swears that the asshole is trying to roll them. 

The nurse hurries in immediately, rushing to Derek's bedside and starting to check his vitals but Derek's firmly shut his eyes again, "What happened, is everything alright?"

"That... that _asshole_ opened his eyes!" Stiles cries hysterically. "I swear, they were open and he squeezed my hand!" 

He nurses' shoulders sag and she looks up at him, "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, _is that all_ , the fucker's in a coma!" Stiles says. The Nurse gives him a look and he winces as he realizes how loud he's being. "Sorry! I'll keep my voice down, but like, he _woke up."_

"Yes well patients tend do that when we start to wean them off of their meds," The nurse gives him a smile. "He's starting to wake up, they're planning to take him off of the ventilator tomorrow." 

"Oh," Stiles says, and really he should've googled medically induced coma's on the cab ride over or something. 

"I recommend you talk to your sister, Mr Hale, we just beeped her through," The nurse glances over her shoulders and Stiles can hear high heels clicking on the linoleum floors. The nurse smiles at the approaching figure, "Mrs Hale, I hope you got some rest."

"As much as I ever do," says a wry female voice. Stiles can't see her, she's standing just out of view behind the curtain, but he can see a silhouette. She's perhaps as tall as Derek, _fuck_ everything's about to come tumbling down. 

"Well your younger brother has arrived," The nurse says, and Stiles wonders if the nurse has realized that Stiles isn't a brother, and is just waiting for Laura's say so, so that they can throw him out. 

It would make sense, considering Stiles showed up here out of the blue, his name on none of the lists and knowing next to nothing about Derek's condition. Also they look nothing alike. 

The curtain is thrown back and Stiles get's his first look at Laura. She's beautiful, it obviously must run in the family, but she looks tired, drawn out, despite her light laugh. 

She looks at him carefully for a moment before she puts on a big smile, and opens her arms, "Hey there, little bro."

Stiles finds himself standing up numbly and stepping towards Laura. She draws him into a hug and holds him surprisingly tight. He finds himself wrapping his arms around her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. 

"It's alright," she says, and Stiles hears the nurse draw the curtains again. "He's alright. He's going to be alright." 

"I thought-" Stiles starts, but Laura just rubs a hand up and down his back shushes him. 

"Stiles, it's _okay_."

"It's not okay!" He starts. "He could've died. He could've died and I wouldn't have known." 

"I should've called you," Laura says, and he thinks that, yeah, he should've been fucking told about all this. "I just... I didn't have your number and Derek's phone got ruined in the accident. I could've tried harder to find it but I've been a bit preoccupied."

He's not mad, but everything's starting to hit him and it's overwhelming. They stand like that for another few minutes before she lets go of him, and pulls up another chair. 

She takes in a deep breath, "So, I mean, I heard a lot about you." 

Stiles frowns, "What?"

"My brother," she clarified, "He talked about you. A lot. It was like he couldn't help himself. I mean, I don't really know what your deal was; he was reluctant to put a label on it."

None of this makes sense, "But Derek said he didn't want to introduce me to you." 

Laura raises an eyebrow at him, before she frowns, "What exactly did he say?"

Stiles racks his brains, "Uh, it was something like... 'I don't want to introduce someone to Laura unless we're officially dating.’” 

Laura blinks at him slowly before she lets out an exasperated sigh and turns to Derek, "You are a fucking idiot, you know that? ' _I don't want to introduce someone to Laura unless we're dating'"_ she says, in a mock imitation of Derek's voice."God, it's no wonder your single."

"What?" Stiles frowned. "I don't... why-"

Laura turned back to him, "Let me guess Stiles, you thought he meant he didn't want to date you?" 

"Uh, well yeah?" Stiles says, and then it clicks into place what Derek meant, when he said that. "Oh my god he's such an idiot." 

Derek opens his eyes again. 

"Yeah, I know you can hear me," Laura says. "Learn to talk to people, dumbass. You're going to end up alone with a dozen cats at this rate." 

They chuckle together, and Stiles feels... lighter than he has in a long time. 

Then Stiles hasa horrible thought, "Oh fuck."

"What?" 

"He was coming to see me, wasn't he?" 

It clicks into place, why else would Derek have been out that early in the morning. Oh fuck, there'd been an accident on his street, he'd had the police at his door! Stiles buries his face in his hands. "I was drunk and I phoned him up and told him that I wanted us to be something official and he was coming over to mine!" 

"Well, that'd explain it. I've been wondering why he was out there at five in the morning," Laura sighs. 

Stiles reaches over to grab Derek's hand once more. His eyes flicker open briefly and shut again. "So," Stiles starts. "What's the damage?"

"Ribs, wrist, shoulder, head," Laura says. "Apparently fairly common for a person vs a car."

"I'm surprised he didn't break a leg."

"Me too," Laura says. "I never asked about it though." 

"Derek said he had two sisters," Stiles says after a moment. 

"Yeah, Cora. She's still on the East Coast, she wanted to come out straight away but with flights and school the earliest she could make it is tomorrow. She flies in for ten." 

"Oh." Stiles doesn't really know what else to say about that, so he changes the subject. "They said something about taking him off of the ventilator?" 

"Yeah well, I don't really speak much hospital jargon," Laura says. "But when he arrived they were worried about his brain swelling? He took one helluva knock to the head."

Stiles can hear the slight tremble in her voice, but he ignores it, Laura doesn't seem like the type to want sympathy. 

"They put him in the coma to let his brain rest, and the ventilator was a part of that or something, I don't really know it was all a bit much. But anyway, he's been responding well so yesterday they started to wean him off the drugs. He's been drifting in an out, uh, at first he seemed a little freaked. They had to restrain his hands and shit because he just kept trying to yank out the tubes and stuff. I... uh, I had to leave for a while but then I came back this morning and he's settled, I think he knows more of what's going on." 

"Yeah well he rolled his eyes at me earlier," Stiles says, glancing over to Derek, but his face is blank now. "I think he's pretty aware in there." 

“It comes and goes,” Laura lets out a shaky laugh, "So, uh, they don't think there's any signs of brain damage, but then there's only so much they can tell before he properly wakes up. They're going to start weaning him off of the ventilator, he should be fairly awake tomorrow." 

"That seems..." 

"Quick?"

"Yeah," Stiles laughs. "I heard coma and was like, imagining him lying there for a few months at least. I mean, that's how coma's work, right? People stay in them for years and then just when you're about to pull the plug they wake up?"

"Well, he's lucky," Laura says. "An idiot, but a lucky idiot." 

Stiles squeezes his hand a bit tighter, but Derek doesn't squeeze back this time. 

"If you want we can do shifts," Stiles offers. "Make sure someone's here most of the time."

"Yeah," Laura lets out a sigh, "I need to start organizing things I think. The past few days I've not done much other than eat, sleep and sit here, y'know?"

Stiles nods. 

Laura lets out a groan, "Fuck, I've gotta figure out how what to do with that shop of his, poor Erica's exhausted."

"I can probably sort that out," Stiles says. "I'll make some phone calls. You want me to see if I can get someone to pick up Cora from the airport?"

Laura shakes her head, "No, uh, if you don't mind actually can you stay here with Derek and I'll go pick her up? I think she'll want to see me, she's been... stressed, being stuck on the east coast."

Stiles nods, he couldn't stand the twenty minutes knowing Derek was in hospital and not being able to see him, he can't imagine what Cora's been going through the past few days. 

"Hey, are you... alright? The nurse said you looked pretty shaken up when you arrived."

"Yeah," Stiles says carefully, not taking his eyes off of Derek. "I dunno, I got a bit of a shock when I saw him."

"Better or worse than your imagination?" Laura asks.

"Both," he says. "I dunno, I kinda forgot about the whole car aspect of it so I was imagining him like, pale, tiny and completely comatose but then I arrive and like... I mean he's obviously not well, but he doesn't seem quite so... coma-ey as I pictured. 

Laura snorts, but Stiles continues on. "Then, on the other hand I forgot to picture scrapes and shit, and y'know, he's got a broken arm and ribs and a black eye and a fat lip." 

Derek's face is actually more purple than Stiles had first though, but then his attention was probably distracted by the ventilator sticking out from his mouth. 

They sit for another few minutes, content just listening to the whir of the machines until Stiles snorts. 

"What?"

"If Derek were able to speak I think he'd be making a joke about how he'd never heard me go so long without talking," Stiles says dryly. 

Laura laughs, "Ugh you’reright, he'd be saying the same thing about me." 

Stiles glances to the clock, and makes a face. "I think I should probably go be responsible and make some arrangements." 

"Arrangements?" 

"Well I was planning on going home to visit Dad on Sunday, so I'll cancel my flights," Stiles says, casting a glance. "I mean, I know he's going to be fine, but I just... I couldn't, y'know?"

Laura glances at the bed as well, "Will your dad be okay with it?"

"Well I mean, he won't be happy but he'll understand. I can guarantee you Derek's going to be giving me grief about skipping my holiday when he wakes up though," Stiles says.

"Oh absolutely." 

Stiles gets up to his feet, and turns back to Laura, and opens his arms. She gives him a smile and stands up, hugging him back tightly. 

"Thanks, y'know, for not chucking me out." Stiles says when they let go. 

"Any time, Stiles." 

"I'll come by for nine tomorrow," Stiles says. "Can you make sure they add 'Stiles Hale' to the list so that there's no trouble with me getting in?"

"Sure," Laura says. 

He hesitates, taking in Laura's tired eyes and lank hair, before he glances back to the clock, it's still early in the day. "Actually, how about I come back at five, and you can get something nice to eat tonight?" Stiles offers.

"You don't have to, Stiles," Laura starts to protest, but Stiles just rolls his eyes. 

"I'll see you at five," he says, and he presses a kiss to her cheek before he goes.

 

#

 

Stiles calls Lydia the minute he's out of the hospital. 

"If you cancel my plane ticket can you get a full refund?"

There's a pause, "And hello to you too, Stiles."

He bites his lip, he loves Lydia but she can be difficult. "I'm not in the mood, Lyds, I'm sorry can just just," he pinches his brow, and breathes out slowly. "Can you just answer my question?"

"There might be a small cancelation fee, but it won't be huge. Do you need me to cancel your flight home?"

"Yeah," Stiles swallows, "That'd be good. Also, do you know anyone who's looking for a temporary job? It'd be working in a coffee shop, six days a week." 

Lydia pauses, "I might have someone. Let me make some calls, and I'll get back to you. Anything else?" 

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, "No, you're a fucking life saver though."

"Oh, I know," Lydia says. "I expect a full story when you have the time."

"I love you too, Lyds," Stiles says, before hanging up the phone. 

He's not really sure where he is, considering he took a cab there and wasn't paying attention to where it went, but there's a bus that has his campus name on it pulling into the stop so he figures that that will get him close enough to home. He needs to see Erica, and he needs to check his email because his phone has not stopped buzzing since he switched it back on, but he decides it can wait until he's had a cup of coffee.

The bus takes twenty five minutes before it drops him back at his office. Stiles loiters outside, contemplating just heading straight to _Perk_ before he deciders that the responsible thing to do is to go and see Kyle. So he makes his way up the two flights of stairs and along the hall to his office. 

Kyle flinches as he opens the door, "Whoa man, I didn’t think you were going to be back today." 

Stiles shrugs, and he kinda hopes he still looks as terrible as he did earlier so that Kyle doesn't think he was playing hooky, He realizes then he has no idea what to call Derek. "I've been visiting the ICU." 

"Whoa," Kyle says. "What happened?"

"Car accident," Stiles shrugs, "Medically induced coma. He's okay though, he's... he's starting to come around. How were my classes?" 

Kyle grimaces, "You have the _worst_ undergrads." 

Stiles snorts, "I'm glad you agree, at least I know I'm not crazy. Thanks, by the way. For earlier; I really appreciated it."

"Any time dude. You need me to cover for you again tomorrow?" Kyle offered.

Stiles nods, "Yeah, uh, I'm just stopping by to make sure everything's okay." 

"I've got it sorted dude. You go deal with your own shit, and I'll call you if there's anything life or death. What time are these essays due tomorrow by the way?"

"Twelve, uh, I'll probably stop by around three to pick them all up, if you're going to be out you can just leave them on my desk."

"No problem. Now go, you look fucking exhausted man." 

Stiles nods absently, before he goes. He heads back down the stairs and out into the fresh air. 

He wants to take a shower, because he knows he smells like disinfectant, but then he's just going back in a few hours and what's the point, really? So instead Stiles heads towards _Perk_ , because someone needed to catch up Erica. 

There's a sign on the door that he hadn't noticed this morning that says 'Due to unforeseen circumstances we shall be open reduced hours,’ and below it it lists when the shops is open. He pushes open the door and walks into the shop. It's unusually busy, and there's a queue of people clamouring for their coffees. Stiles spots Erica who looks frazzled, so he pushes past the queue, ducks under the gap in the counter and grabs one of the aprons from their hanger by the door. 

"What are you doing, Stiles?" Erica says, not sparing him a look. 

"Helping," he replies. "I've been an undergrad, I know how to work in a coffee shop. I'm pretty sure it's a requirement, y'know, along with one math class you've got to pull at least two shifts as a barista."

Erica shoots him a withering glare, but Stiles just slides up to the till. 

"Hi there, sir, I'm sorry for the delay, what can I get for you?" He asks the next customer, forcing a bright smile onto his face. 

Stiles mostly takes care of the till, which allows Erica to focus on making the coffees. It's definitely a two person job when it gets busy. It takes them twenty minutes before the last customer of the lunch rush is served. Stiles turns to Erica and gives her a shaky smile, before holding up a fist, "Fuck that was hectic."

"You've no idea," Erica says, bumping her fist against his. "Thanks."

"No probs, you want to get a break? I can hold down the fort."

Erica nods quickly, tearing off her apron, "Oh gods yes."

She grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge, before screwing off the cap and downing half of it in one go. She then grabs one of the croissants from the display, holding it in her mouth as she prepares an expresso. 

"Don't choke," Stiles says.

Erica mumbles in response, waving a hand at him as she heads out of the back door, towards the small patio just out of sight of the customers. 

Stiles starts to wipe down the counters, taking advantage of the brief quiet spell to clear things away. He manages to get the place almost organised when Erica arrives back from her break. 

"You have any customers?"

"Nah, it's been dead," Stiles shrugs, tossing the dish towel he's holding into the hamper by the sink. "Uh I visited the hospital this morning after I saw you and I've spoken to Laura. I'm sorting out someone to help cover Derek's shifts in the mean time, but are you okay doing the ordering and that for the minute?"

Erica glares at him, "Stilinski, tell me how the fuck Derek is, or I swear to god-"

"Oh, shit," Stiles says, eyes widening. "I forgot, I'm sorry, uh, he's fine. Well no, he's not _fine_ , not by a long shot, but he's waking up. They're gonna start taking him off the ventilator and, y'know, they can't be sure or anything but his head looks good, like damage wise. "

Erica blinks, squeezing her lips firmly together as her eyes fill with tears. "I'm okay," she says, waving Stiles off and reaching up to wipe her face with her sleeve. She lets out a sigh, and gives Stiles a genuine smile, "I'm good. I was just worried, no one had told me anything."

"I'll let you know when he's out the ICU, so that you can visit," Stiles promises. "Are you okay here though? I kind of need to sort more shit out before I head back to the hospital tonight." 

"You're going back?" Erica asks, surprised. 

"Yeah," Stiles shrugs. "Laura looks pretty exhausted and Derek's drifting in and out of consciousness now so she doesn't want to leave him alone. I'm gonna watch him tonight and she's going to eat a nice meal and sleep; I made her promise."

Erica snorts, "Okay, well, if he wakes up say hi for me."

"I'll say hi anyway," Stiles says. "It's hard to tell when he's listening or not, medically induced coma patients apparently can recall a lot of what goes on around them, and hear a lot too." 

Stiles had googled it on the bus back from the hospital.

"Oh, cool, I think," Erica says. "I'll make you a coffee for your journey."

"You don't have to," Stiles tries, but Erica's already halfway through prepping it for him. 

She hands him the to go cup and presses a kiss into his cheek, "Thanks for stopping by Stilinski," 

He salutes her before he turns and heads from the shop, lifting up the countertop for once instead of ducking underneath it. The afternoon sun is warm, and he stands for a minute, letting it wash over him. 

It's okay. 

Things are going to be okay. 

Stiles likes the sound of that. 

 

#

 

Scott's in the apartment when he get's home, sitting almost exactly where Stiles left him this morning and it's so surreal that Stiles has to stop and laugh. 

Scott looks up from the book that he's swapped for his cereal, and frowns, "What?"

"You're just... you're in the same place," Stiles says, still laughing to himself. Scott doesn't get it, and he's frankly looking quite concerned for Stiles. Stiles sighs, and shakes his head. "I've just had a busy day, that's all." 

"You okay?"

"Uh, kind of," Stiles drops his bag and slumps down in the seat across from Scott. "So it turns out Derek didn't block my number."

Scott sighs, looking up from his book, "Stiles, if he's playing the 'I lost my phone' card then that's _bull_ , he could've tried Facebook if he wanted to-" 

"Thanks for jumping to my defense there, Scotty, but I wasn't finished. " Stiles takes a deep breath, "He's been in the hospital. He got hit by a car."

"What? When?!" Scott frowns, then his eyes go wide with the realization, "Nooooooo."

Stiles nods. 

"He was- He was the hit and run dude?" Scott stammers. Stiles just nods again and Scott sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Holy fuck, is he... is he alright?I mean, as alright as you can be for being hit by a car?"

"I think so..." Stiles says slowly. "He's on a ventilator and they put him into a coma but he's starting to come out of it and they're talking about trying him breathing on his own tomorrow."

Scott's quiet for a minute, letting that process. "You want me to phone Mom so that you could talk this through with her?" Scott offers. 

Stiles shakes his head, "Nah, thanks for the offer though. I'm gonna go Skype my dad, I'm not making it home next week."

Scott nods, and gives him a small smile, reaching over the table to grab the back of his hand. "I'm glad he's gonna be alright."

"Me too," Stiles says, smiling back before he gets up to his feet. He rubs a hand over his head before he goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Soda. "Wish me luck, I don't think Dad's gonna be too happy."

"He's not gonna be mad or anything." Scott starts, but Stiles just shakes his head. 

"No, no, I don't think he'll be mad, just... y'know, _disappointed._ He was looking forward to me spending the full two weeks at home. I mean he won't have long to miss me, considering I'm going to have to move into his basement once I graduate, but still."

"Ah," Scott says. "I got you. Good luck dude."

Stiles nods and heads into his room. He puts his laptop on the desk and hits the power button, listening to the window's startup tune. 

His laptop seems to boot even slower than usual. He needs a new computer desperately, he thinks, tapping in his password to the login screen. The computer takes a few minutes before the screen catches up to his fingers and the little blocked out password circles appear. He grabs his phone as the computer starts it's boot up, sifting through his email

Stiles dials his dad's number and waits as it rings. He doesn't pick up; big surprise Stiles doesn't even know why his dad has a cell at this point. He lets out a frustrated sigh, and dials the station number which picks up after three rings.

"Hello, Beacon Hills police station, how can I be of help?" 

"Hey Marjory," Stiles says, because he knows it's Marjory. He's pretty familiar with her voice. "It's Stiles, is my dad there?"

"Yeah he's in his office," Marjory says. "You want to be patched through?"

"Please." 

There's the familiar sound of him being put on hold and then his dad's voice is on the other end of the line, bright and surprised, "Stiles? This is a pleasant surprise. Wait, you don't need money, do you?"

Stiles grimaces, "No, Dad, I don't need money, but it's not a good phone call."

"Are you alright?" his dad demands immediately, and hell, that wasn't a smart thing for Stiles to say. 

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, everything about me is absolutely fine, promise," Stiles reassures him quickly. "I'm sorry I'm just not going to be able to make it home for spring break like I planned." 

His dad pause, and then sighs, "Did you forget to book transport again?"

"No-"

"Do you need cash for a last minute flight?" 

"It's nice to know you have so much faith in me," Stiles says, smiling grimly. "I just, I can't come home, a friend’s in hospital. He's gonna be alright but it's pretty serious." 

"Not Scott?" is his dad's first reaction.

"Dad, you think if it was Scott was in the hospital that you wouldn't know already?" Stiles shakes his head, "No, you don't know this friend."

"They must be pretty important for you to miss a planned trip home," his dad says, and fuck there's no worming his way out of this without telling his dad everything. "Is this the friend you phoned me distraught about a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah," Stiles sighs, "He got in a car accident. He's in the ICU, they, uh, they had to induce a coma? But he's coming out of it. He opened his eyes earlier when I was there."

His dad sucks in a breath. "Oh shit, kid."

Stiles manages to chuckle, "Language."

"Car versus car?" his dad asks.

"Car versus human," Stiles says. "Hit and run."

"The fucker," his dad swears, and Stiles can't help but giggle. There was a time when his dad used to ban swearing in front of him. Anytime he slipped up Stiles got a dollar. "You need me to come over?"

His dad's voice is soft and comforting, and Stiles want's to say yes _really badly._ It's only three o'clock and it's already one of the longest days in his life, but instead he swallows and manages to say thanks but no thanks. "I'm doing okay, you don't have to do that."

"You sure kid? I can be on a flight out there in a few days, and Scott's room will be free anyway."

"Really dad, I'm holding up fine. Look, I've got to get back to the hospital soon, and I need to eat before I do, so I'll phone you soon.?"

"Phone me tonight once you get back, no excuses about how late it is, alright?

"Dad-"

"No buts, Stiles," his dad says firmly. "Call me and let me know you're at home and not sleeping in a hospital chair, you got that?"

"Fine," Stiles says with a sigh. "I'll call you from home. " 

"Thank you," his dad says smugly. "I'll let you go, you... take care, okay?"

Stiles takes in a sep breath, head lulling back to look at the ceiling. He wants to go for a nap. "I will. Love you."

"You too," his dad says, a before he hangs up. 

Stiles sits there for a minute, waiting on the strength to move. He was so caught up in the whirlwind of 'Derek's in a coma!' then the 'Derek's gonna be okay!' one hit hit him, and he's not stopped all day.

He lets out a groan and buries his face in his hands, because this isn't fair. None of this is fucking fair. Why did Derek have to get hit by a fucking car? It seems selfish to be even thinking it, but Stiles is wondering why on earth Derek had to chose the week before spring break to get into a fucking car accident. 

Fuck it, it's his own head, if he can't be selfish in his thoughts then where can he be? 

He sits up straight and opens up his email. He's dreading it, usually if he goes a few hours without checking his inbox its cluttered with junk, but with it being the day before a deadline he's expecting lots of emails with 'HELP' written as their subject. 

He's pleasantly surprised to find that that's not the case. There's nothing unread, and Kyle appears to have made a folder titled 'junk mail that arrived while you were away'. There's a few emails from his students, but they've all got replies. Stiles’ opens one of them up and skims Kyle’s answer, but everything seems fine. He lets out a sigh of relief and shuts the gmail account, before getting up to his feet. 

He pads through to the kitchen and opens the fridge. There's no left overs, everything they have requires cooking. Stiles lets out a groan. 

"What's up?" 

"I don't wanna cook," Stiles answers, shutting the fridge. "I have to go soon, I don't even know _how_ to get to the hospital and I can't really afford a taxi."

"I'll drive you," Scott offers. "Well stop at McDonalds and you can get something to eat."

Stiles turns around to face him, "You sure?"

"Yeah, and you can just call me when you want to come home again."

"You don't have to-" Stiles starts, but Scott is just rolling his eyes at him. 

"Yeah I do, man, now grab your coat, we better start moving."

Stiles does as Scott instructs, grabbing his backpack and laptop as well, and follows him down to the parking lot for their building. Scott has a bike that he bought for himself when the dirt bike he rode in high school finally went to the scrapheap in the sky. Stiles takes the helmet and clings on tight to Scott as he zips through the city streets. It's a surprisingly quiet night, but then he supposes people wouldn’t really start leaving town until tomorrow at the earliest and most of the students will have deadlines for the end of this week. 

Scott pulls into the McDonalds parking lot and stops his bike. Stiles hops off, his legs feeling slightly like jelly. It's only four o'clock, so the McDonalds is pretty empty and they're served quickly. Stiles orders a cheeseburger and Scott orders chicken nuggets. 

He sets his tray down at a table sits, before picking the bun off of his burger and tossing the gherkins aside. 

"I don't see why you don't just ask for no gherkins," Scott sighs, sitting down across from him. 

"Because, dear Scott," Stiles starts, putting the bun back onto his burger. "If I were to ask for no gherkins then I would expect no gherkin and I guarantee you half the time they'd' forget and then I'd end up with a mouthful of gherkin."

"You said gherkin a lot," Scott observes. "It's starting to sound weird."

"Your face is starting to sound weird."

Scott just rolls his eyes and pops a chicken nugget into his mouth. "So, Lydia called me earlier and told me to phone back after you came home."

"Oh? Did you phone her back yet?" Stiles asks. Scott nods as he takes a bite of his burger, “What did she want?" 

Stiles' speech is obscured by the mouthful of food, but Scott doesn't care. "She was sorting out your plane ticket, wanted to know if I wanted to sell it to Kira."

Stiles wrinkles his nose, "You're taking Kira home?"

"Yeah, well," Scott shrugs. "She was just planning on staying here. This way you get a full refund at least."

He has a point, but Stiles can't help but feel slightly replaced. _You're being silly,_ he thought to himself, _you're the one who chose not to go home._

It's almost as if Scott knows exactly what he's thinking, because he just rolls his eyes, "Dude, I wish you were going home, okay? But I know you've gotta be here, and that's fine, but I'll die of boredom if it's just me and Lydia back in Beacon Hills." 

Stiles rolls his eyes, "I'm telling Lydia you said that."

"It was a comment on the town, not on her," Scott assures him quickly. Stiles snorts. 

"Yeah, well, we'll see if Lydia sees it that way."

Scott kicks him in the shins, and Stiles retaliates by managing to throw a french fry straight down his shirt. They leave before it manages to escalate. 

"He's in Memorial, right?" Scott asks once they step outside. 

Stiles nods, and fuck, he's gotta go back to the hospital. He just managed to get the smell out of his nose and he has to go _back_. Earlier he was just astounded that Derek was opening his eyes, what if he's worse than Stiles remembers? What if he crashes? What if-

Scott lays a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Stiles, it'll be alright," he says softly. 

Stiles forces himself to breath, "Yeah. It's gonna be fine, I just keep getting wrapped up in my head, is all."

"You sure you're okay to go to the hospital?"

Stiles nods firmly, "Yeah. I better get a move on, his sister needs someone to let her have a break." 

Scott just gives him a small smile, before gesturing towards the bike. "Hop on then buddy."

 

#

 

Getting into the ICU is a lot smoother this time around. He can remember the way that the nurse had shown him earlier, and breezes through the hallways towards Derek's room. He hits the call button and introduces himself as Stiles Hale, and the nurse buzzes the door to let him in. 

Laura is sat by Derek's bedside with a book in hand. She looks exhausted. 

He pretends to knock on the curtain, "Knock knock."

She looks up and smiles, "Hey there Stiles, good to see you."

"How's he doing?"

"Good," Laura gives him a smile as he takes the empty seat next to her. "He woke up for a little while earlier so I was telling him all about what an asshole he is for worrying us like this, I think he understood me but it's hard to tell, y'know?" 

Stiles nods, glancing over to the bed again. His chest is rising and falling softly in time with the respirator and there's that steady reassuring beep in the background. "Did they move him?"

Laura nods, "Gotta prevent bedsores."

He's not angled up as high anymore, lying more flat on the bed and the cast arm is at a different angle. 

"Right," Stiles nods. "Anything else happen?"

"He gave me a brilliant display of his tap-dancing abilities," Laura says dryly. "He's really been practicing, I was impressed."

"Hardy har-har," Stiles says. "Is the plan still to take him off of intubation tomorrow?"

Laura nods, "So long as he seems responsive in the morning they'll first take him off the machine and make sure that he's breathing okay on his own and then if everything's okay they'll take out the tube."

Stiles winces, glancing back to he bed, "How far does that tube go?"

"Right into his lungs," Laura says with a shudder. "I mean, he was out of it when it went in and he's only starting to come around now so it's not too bad at least. He probably won’t remember much of it if he remembers anything at all." 

He nods along, not taking his eyes off of Derek, but he doesn't seem to be responding this time. "I've got this tonight, y'know, if you wanna go. You should go," he adds hastily because she'll obviously claim she doesn't want to leave. "Get a good night’s sleep I mean, you've gotta pick up Cora tomorrow." 

She blinks, and then nods, slowly. 

"I've got this," he reassures her. "I promise, when I draw on the fake mustache I'll make sure not to go for the Hitler. It'll be tasteful, elegant. Really class up the place."

Laura snorts, "God I hope you're joking."

"You'll find out tomorrow. Send me a text so that I can have your number," Stiles says as Laura gets to her feet and gathers her things together. "If anything happens I promise I will call you immediately."

"Thanks," Laura says, pulling on her coat. 

"Make sure you eat something nice," Stiles orders. "Take a bath, y'know, the whole shebang. I'm pretty sure there's bubble bath hiding at the back of the cupboard under Derek's sink." 

"Thanks for the tip," she gives him a smile, before turning on her heel and heading from the ICU. 

Stiles glances back at the bed, before he shuffles over and sits down in the chair closer to the bed. He casts a glance to Derek, he's still as bruised and battered as he remembered. 

"Well I hope you don't think that just because you're in a coma I'm here to entertain you," Stiles starts. "I mean, I have my own life, y'know. You're not my only friend." 

Stiles leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. He tries to ignore the beeping, imagine he's just hanging out at Derek's, and Derek is being stubborn about trying to read a book. 

"My Dad was asking after you," Stiles says, which isn't technically a lie. "Well, he knows you as Eric, but there's not much difference. You should meet him sometime, I think you'd like him. You'd both bond over pretending to not find me funny. 

"Erica was asking for you too, told me to pass on her regards. Don't worry, the shops opening reduced hours until we get someone to cover your shifts and I made sure she knew what was going on with you. She was pretty worried." Stiles brow furrows and he opens his eyes again, "We were all pretty worried, okay? You don't get to do that again." 

The heart monitor's steady rhythm is his only response, "God, sometimes it feels like you just don't listen to me anymore."

His humor is wasted on Derek. 

Stiles reaches over to grab Derek's hand again. His skin is warm, and soft like usual and Stiles closes his his eyes again to just pretend that they're not sitting in the ICU. 

There's only so long, that you can speak to someone who's unconscious, Stiles decides, without feeling like you want to prod your eyes out with a spoon. He gets to his feet and stretches out his back before wandering over to the nurses station. "Hey, sorry to bug you, I just wanted to check if I was okay to use my laptop in here?" 

"Yes, that's fine," says the nurse sat behind the desk. "Anything else?"

Stiles shakes his head, taking a step backwards, "Nah, that's all, thanks."

Derek's still asleep when he gets back, or unconscious, maybe? Stiles isn't really sure at this point. He'd kind of assumed that waking from a coma would just be like this sudden moment, where his eyes would open, he'd sit upright, rip out the wires and tubes connected up to him and they'd all hug each other and weep with joy. 

It's not turning out like that at all. 

Stiles sits down and pulls out his laptop, deciding he should use the fact that he can't piss about on Facebook or Tumblr to catch up on his readings. He indulges the sappier part of himself and slides his spare hand into Derek's, scrolling down the PDF's with his other. 

Eventually it clicks to ten and Stiles shuts his laptop down. He glances back over to Derek who's eyes are still closed. 

"Hey, dude," Stiles says. "I need to go. Scott and Dad are waiting up to hear from me but I'll be back tomorrow morning bright and early. And then Cora will be here too! I gotta say, this is not how I imagined meeting your sisters when I left you that message."

He gets up to his feet, and leans in to press another kiss softly against Derek's head, squeezing his hand. Derek doesn't twitch and his eyes don't open, but Stiles doesn't really mind. It's late anyway.

 

#

 

By the time he calls Scott, waits on Scott getting to him and then taking him home, calls his dad, brushes his teeth _and_ gets ready for bed, it's past midnight, which makes waking up the next morning feels like a special kind of torture. 

Rather than wait at _Perk_ though, he fills a thermos with coffee and tosses it into his backpack. A few of his tutorial groups papers been uploaded during the night so Stiles prints out hard copies of the essays and packs them into his bag as well. 

He's fully aware though that he might not get a chance to do anything. Derek might be _awake_ , and that's terrifying because if he's awake then they can talk and he might actually have to discuss their relationship like a grown up.

Stiles looked up the bus routes before he went to bed, so he doesn't have to wake up Scott. It takes him twenty minutes and he arrives just before nine. 

He buzzes the ICU, like normal, but rather than being let in there's a pause, and then a nurse comes to the door. Stiles feels his stomach settle with dread, and it must show on his face because the nurse is shaking her head. 

"Mr. Hale, don't worry, nothing's wrong. It's good actually, uh, your brother's been awake and aware all morning. We're just waiting on his doctor coming up to see about taking him off the respirator, so you'll have to wait out here before you can go into see him."

"Oh," Stiles says, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Uh, if you're waiting on a Doctor then can I go in and say good morning, quick? Since he's awake?"

The nurse gives him a once over, she's not one that he's met before, "You said you were his brother, right?" 

Stiles nods, swallowing hard. 

"Well," she pauses, and checks her watch, "There's probably time to say hello. Wash your hands and come on in quick."

Stiles gives her a smile, before hitting his palm against the soap dispenser and squirting himself a handful. He follows the nurse in, rubbing it between his palms, before heading over in the direction of Derek's bed. 

He pulls back the curtain and steps in. There's the steady beeping again, and the whirr of the ventilator, but they've propped Derek up so that he's sitting, and his eyes are open. 

He doesn't move his head, but his gaze flickers over to Stiles and stops. 

"Oh christ, they were right. You're pretty awake today, aren't you?" Stiles says, stepping over towards the bed. "Roll your eyes if you mean 'Hey, Stiles, love of my life, it's nice to see you here!’” 

A crease develops between Derek's eyebrows, and he looks like he's trying to glare at him; a feat that's much simpler when there's not a ventilator stoping you from frowning. 

"Look, I'm sure the nurses have already told you this, but they're going to take that... thing-" Stiles gestures to Derek's mouth, "-out. Like as soon as your doc get's here." 

The curtain is drawn back with uncanny timing. Stiles turns around to see a man in a long white coat holding a clipboard. "Well if you're not the doctor, then your costume's brilliant." 

"You must be family of the patient," the doctor responds, ignoring his joke and stepping up towards Derek without so much as a glance to Stiles.

"Yup, I'm his brother," he says, giving Derek a pointed glare. It's really hard to tell if Derek realizes what's going on, given his limited response capabilities. 

The Doctor is looking into Derek's eyes. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait in the waiting room while we make sure that he can come off of the ventilator." 

"Alright, I'l... I''ll be in the waiting room," Stiles says, giving Derek a wave and heading outside of his little section of curtain and towards the nurses’s station.

"Mr Hale," says the first nurse, not looking up from her computer screen. "How can I help? 

"Uh can you give me a bell once I can come back in?"

"Sure," she nods. 

"Thanks," Stiles says. He turns and heads towards the entrance to the ICU, hitting the open door button and heading out into the small ICU waiting room.

He's familiar with waiting rooms but somewhere along the line he managed to forget just how horrible waiting room seating was. He's not the only in the room, by far, but it's not busy.  

There's a girl sitting in the front row wearing a bloodied shirt and staring vacantly at the wall in front of her. Stiles avoids eye contact and sits himself at the back of the room, taking off his rucksack and pulling out the thermos of coffee. 

He wasn't sure how long it took to take a tube out of someone's lungs. He didn't think it should take that long, surely putting the thing in was a lot harder,but he switched back on his cell and fired out a quick text to Laura letting her know what was happening before he grabbed a stack of his marking and a red pen, settling down cross-legged in the chair. He puts in headphones to try and block out the sound of the ICU, which was overwhelmingly grief stricken. Plus the bloodstained girl at the front of the room was starting to cry and that was just distracting, really. 

He skims through the essays he printed out, looking for a name that he thinks won't make him want to cry in frustration, settling on a quiet boy called Jack Marczak who had the only opening line that wasn't a variation on the same thing. He holds the green pen between his teeth and has the red one in hand, deciding to go through for mistakes first. 

He doesn't even notice at first that there's a nurse calling his name, until someone is waving their hand in front of his face. Stiles blinks, jerking his head up. There's a nurse standing in front of him, arms folded across her chest impatiently. 

"Oh shit, sorry!" Stiles exclaims, taking the pen out of his mouth quickly. "I got distracted." 

"I noticed. You can come through now, if you want."

"Is everything..." Stiles trails off, but the nurse nods. 

"Everything's fine, your brother was breathing okay on his own when they took off the machines, so they removed the tube. They've been asking questions and he seems fine, no signs of permanent damage." 

Stiles lets the relief wash over him, sagging back int he chair. "Oh thank lord." 

"Don't underestimate how sick he is though, Mr Hale," the nurse says, observing him carefully. "He'll most likely require at least a month rehab to get back up to his full strength."

Stiles frowns, "Strength? But... he was only under for like four days." 

"Muscle atrophies faster than you would think," she says grimly. "While he's lucky he was under for a short amount of time he's not going to be running any marathons for a while. It might be a few days before he can sit up comfortably.”

"But," Stiles still doesn't understand it. "It was four days. I've stayed in bed for four days before and I was fine." 

"It's not quite the same thing," the nurse says, not unkindly. "Do you want to come through? He's expecting you." 

Stiles nods slowly, picking up his rucksack and following the nurse through to the ward. They stop and wash their hands before stepping through the doors. 

"You know where to go?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, stepping forwards towards Derek's bed. He curses himself; he should've texted Laura and let her know, but it's too late now, he can't use his phone while he's in the ward. 

He pulls back Derek's curtain but can't make himself move forward. 

Derek's _there_ , he's lying there with a small smile on his face, and that big stupid tube that was shoved into his mouth is gone, and he seems so much more _free_. Yeah, he may still have IV's coming out the wazzoo, but he's smiling and Stiles doesn't now what to do. 

He presses his lips firmly together to stop himself from tearing up, because, _damn it_ , that's not going to happen. 

"Hey, I'm-"

"Stiles," Derek cuts in. "I know who you are." 

Stiles shakes his head, letting go of the curtain and stepping closer to Derek's bed. "They said to always introduce yourself. That you might be confused about things."

"Stiles," Derek says. His breathing is slightly labored but he's managing to give Stiles one helluva condescending stare. "I didn't get hit on the head that hard, my memory's still intact, now… would you take a fucking seat." 

Stiles scowls and drops down into the armchair. "Christ, I don't know why I missed you if you're going to speak to me like that."

"I think you'll live."

"I could leave," Stiles threatens. "I don't have to stay here and listen to this abusive, _foul_ language."

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles kinda wants to punch him in the shoulder but that'd probably hurt a lot, so he clenches his hands together 

"What day is it?" Derek asks with a frown, "I-People keep telling me the day but... but time was passing strangely." 

"It's Thursday," Stiles says. "Cora's flying in-"

Derek lets out a groan, head lulling back against the pillows, "Why? She didn't need to-"

Stiles looks at him sharply. "Derek, they had to induce a coma for three days to stop your brain swelling, just don't start saying that you're fine. Let them fuss. God I think Laura didn't leave your bedside unless the nurses forced her too." 

Derek grimaces, and Stiles decided to move the conversation onto lighter things. 

"So," he starts. "How was getting your respirator removed?"

"About as fun as having a tube pulled out of your lungs," Derek says slowly. 

Stiles barks out some laughter, "Glad to see that you didn't lose your sense of humor, that would've been tragic."

They sit for a minute, before Derek clears his throat. He winces straight after and Stiles jumps to his feet. 

"You need a nurse? Dude, are you-"

"I'm _fine,"_ Derek snaps. "God, I had to cough is all. The broken ribs make it a bit sore but I'm _fine_."

"Your such an asshole," Stiles says, before slumping down into the seat next to him. "I've had to sit by your bedside and wipe the drool from your face-"

"You did no such thing."

"-And this is my thanks?" 

"I have a vague recollection of you shouting and calling me a asshole after I opened my eyes," Derek says. He's speaking slowly but it's clear and god Stiles loves the sound of his voice. "I doubt your bedside manner extended to wiping up my drool."

"I should at least get props for not drawing a mustache on your sleeping form," Stiles argues. "That was a super hard impulse to resist."

Derek snorts, but then winces in pain. Stiles does his best to ignore it because apparently Derek's not having any of his worrying.

"Thanks for that," he says finally. "Although if you had done I doubt I would've noticed to be honest. There's not any mirrors near by." 

"I could bring you one if you wanted, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Is my face that bad?" 

"You look like you lost a fight with a car dude," Stiles says, before reaching out a finger and prodding Derek's cheek, "I'm pretty sure this cut here is a perfect imprint of the hood animate."

Derek flinches his head away before giving him a glare. It's strangely reassuring. 

"Well, I should probably step out for a minute and phone your sister, tell her you've still got most of your brain cells." 

"I'm not appreciating this kind of humor."

"Well tough shit," Stiles says, getting to his feet. "I'll be right back."

He steps outside of the ICU and heads into a stairwell before switching back on his phone. When he call's Laura it's not Laura who picks up, but Cora, who sounds a lot more reserved than Laura, and sighs exasperatedly at him twice over the phone call. But they were already on their way to the hospital, they won't be long.

After switching off his cell, Stiles heads back up the stairs and into the ward, heading over to Derek's bed, where Derek is examining his cast arm. 

"You want me to sign it?"

"Like I have a choice," Derek points out. 

"I'll wait, I need artistic inspiration," Stiles informs him. Derek rolls his eyes. 

Stiles looks down at his hands. His nail bits are bitten raw. He takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. 

"Show off," Derek mutters. 

"Not my problem if you can't dismissively sigh at me anymore dude," Stiles says. "Now, because I'm obviously the brave and emotionally mature one, are we going to talk about the other night? Y'know, and us?"

Derek opens his mouth, but he doesn't say anything, instead he's looking away from Stiles.

Stiles twists in his seat to see what Derek's looking at. There's a girl standing there, staring at the bed, and she must be about Stiles' age, with long brown hair. There's something familiar about her face and Stiles can't place it till he spots Laura behind her and the realizes that this must be Cora, and he's seen her picture before on Derek's fridge. 

He looked back to Derek, "We'll continue this later, yeah?"

Derek nodded at him, but he was still sitting staring at his sisters. 

"Uh, hey," he croaked out. "It's nice to see you guys.”

Laura's choking back a sob, one hand covering her mouth and Cora just looks frozen, and Stiles can see how tightly she's gripping Laura's hand from there. 

"I... I'm not gonna bite guys," Derek says weakly. 

Cora laughs, and Laura rushes to his bedside, allowing Stiles a distraction to slip out. He doesn't need to be there for this, this isn't his business really. 

He glances at the clock on the wall - it's twelve o'clock, and his breakfast was small so he figures he should probably eat something. 

There's a Starbucks near to the main reception, which sounds about right because Stiles is pretty sure that if you're sent to hell you could turn a corner and there would be a Starbucks in all it's bright and shinny green glory. 

He manages to find a table with his back to a pillar and he digs to out his laptop, setting himself up before he goes to get a coffee and a sandwich. As much as he hates to admit it, the coffee tastes not half bad, and the sandwich is actually pretty good. 

He sits there for a couple of hours. Really it's a time for Derek to be with his family and now that Cora's in town they can swap out with each other for visits to keep him company. They don't need to keep constant vigil by his bedside anymore. 

He has his lunch, chewing his sandwich happily, before pulling up his Facebook. There's a message from Lydia, 

_Lydia Martin - I may have found someone to work for you. Are you free to talk?_

The message was sent to him three hours ago, but he messages her back to tell her he's free anyway. His phone starts to ring almost immediately. 

"Hey there," he says. 

"How you holding up?"

"He's awake. Talking even," Stiles shrugs, before taking another bite of his sandwich. "I'm having lunch." 

"Oh," Lydia said. "Should you not be up there?"

Stiles shrugs, still chewing on his sandwich. Lydia can't see him though so he says; "I dunno. It's awkward."

"Awkward?"

"Well, I was sitting by his bed," Stiles starts. "And his sisters come in and they're both like fucking crying and shit, so I made my excuses and now I'm sitting down here realizing I might've gone too far. I mean, we're not dating. We might start dating but we've not spoken about it or anything, and yet I've been sitting by his bedside and telling the nurses that I'm his brother? It's a bit much."

Lydia pauses for a minute, musing this over, "Well that sounds like a load of bull." 

"Hey!"

"Stiles, I seem to remember that the reason he's in there is because he couldn't wait till morning to talk to you like a sane person so he walked across town in the middle of the night because you phoned him drunk and said you want to date."

"He lives like ten minutes away," Stiles interrupts. "It's not exactly _across town."_

"It was four in the morning. Let me tell you Stiles, there is no way I would answer the phone to Jackson at four in the morning, never mind head over to his house to babysit him while he's drunk," Lydia says swiftly. "Look, I'm not getting into this with you. You can do whatever you want with your relationship, but do you want the number of this guy whose looking for a job?" 

 _"_ Text it over, please."

He hangs up on Lydia and lets his head slump into his hands. He could head back up to Derek's room, but instead he closes down his laptop and zips up his bag and deciders to head into college. Derek's awake and he can't just use it as an excuse to not do any work anymore. 

 

#

 

He stops by _Perk_ on the way into class. Erica's behind the counter, as per usual. 

"Hey there, I've got a surprise for you."

She looks up from the book she's been reading, "Lemmie guess, it's a giant bag of money?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and hands her over a scrap of paper, "This guys’s name is Boyd. He's worked in cafe's before and is willing to start right away. Phone him and organise shifts." 

Erica grabs the piece of paper from his outstretched hand and grins, "God, this is better than a giant bag of money. You are the _best_ , Stiles."

"Please, keep saying that," Stiles smirks. 

"So-" Erica starts, but then stops as the phone starts to ring, "Hold that thought." 

She turns around and grabs the phone from the wall, "Hello, _Perk_." 

Stiles can't hear who's on the other end of the line, but Erica just rolls her eyes and sighs, "Stiles, it's for you," she says, walking over to hand him the phone. Stiles leans over the countertop and grabs the receiver, pressing it to his ear. 

"Hello?" 

"Stiles, pick up your damn phone." 

It's Laura. Stiles grabs his cell from his jeans and frowns at the screen. There is in fact two missed calls from Laura that he didn't notice. 

"My bad, sorry 'bout that." 

"Look, me and Cora are going out for dinner, so I thought I'd let you know that you're free to visit Derek." 

"Oh," Stiles says, lifting a hand and rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, uh, I think I'll just leave it tonight though." 

There's a beat of silence, "Stiles, you spent the last day at his comatose bedside. Please don't tell me you're getting cold feet." 

Stiles sighs, "I'm not getting cold feet, I just- everything that's been happening is a lot, y'know? And I don't really know what we are and I don't want to get in the way, y'know? He's been really injured and it feels like it should just be a family thing-"

"God don't let him hear you say that, he'll think you don't want him anymore. Stiles, I'm gonna put it this way, my brother thinks your the fucking shit, okay?" Laura says quickly. "He wants you around Stiles, and if I thought that it should be some sort of 'family' thing while he's getting well again then I would've ratted out out to the nurses when you were pretending to be my younger bro." 

Stiles blinks, "You sure?"

"You're an idiot," she says, her voice fond. "I'm pretty sure that he wants to see you thought.

"Right," Stiles nods mostly to himself, getting to his feet. "I'll... I'll go."

"Talk about your relationship!" Laura says chirpily. "Be adults! Make good choices!"

The line goes dead. 

 

#

 

"You are totally into me."

In hindsight, Stiles probably should've said hello first. 

Derek blinks at him, frowning, "What are you on about?" 

Stiles takes a deep breath and pushes aside the curtains, stepping close to his bedside. "You like me! I know it, you came to my house at four am when I was drunk and you let me study at yours and cook me dinner and we have fucking great sex," Stiles doesn't care if the nurses can hear him, he's figured that they must know that he's not their brother by this point, considering the different accent and the fact they look nothing alike. "You like me _a lot."_

"Uh yeah," Derek says, shuffling slightly and dropping Stiles gaze. "I thought that was obvious." 

Stiles resists the urge to slap him upside the head, and instead sits down next to him. "Obvious? You thought it was fucking _obvious?_ Derek you are the least obvious person, you just mumble things and then expect people to read your mind." 

"You called me when you were drunk!" Derek retorts hotly. "You didn't say anything to me about feeling anything more than friendship, but then suddenly it's three am and I've got two dozen missed calls and a voicemail message where you're talking about wanting to meet my sister-"

Stiles leans forward and quickly, but carefully presses his lips against Derek's. He pulls away, keeping his hands on both sides of Derek’s cheeks, rubbing this thumbs into Derek's skin. "I want you as more than a friend, like a lot, and I can't wait for you to be better so that we can go back to yours and attempt to break your bed.”

"Kiss me again," Derek orders.

Stiles obliges. 

It's overly cautious and chaste but it's what they need. Something meaningful. Something real. 

They stay like that for a few more moments, and then Stiles helps Derek shift over ever so slightly so that he can both fit on the bed. It's probably not allowed but the nurse doesn't come by and throw Stiles out. He rests his head on Derek's shoulder, and holds onto his hand, tracing circles into his skin. 

"I'm not letting you out at night without a fluorescent jacket," Stiles tells him. 

Derek scoffs.

"No joke. Also that black leather one's getting cut up, it's far too dark," Stiles warns him. 

"Whatever you want," Derek says while rolling his eyes, but he's smiling softly. 

Stiles shuffles down in the sheets, pressing a kiss against Derek's shoulder. "Damn right. You're not allowed to scare me like that again, okay?"

"Okay," Derek promises, and Stiles can't believe he got so lucky. "I'm okay with that. I'm not going anywhere." 

"Good," Stiles mumbles, pressing another kiss into Derek's shoulder. "That's good. I'm not going anywhere either." 

Stiles looked up to Derek and gives him another smile, before leaning forward to kiss him once more. Derek's tired, and fragile, but his lips are soft and Stiles just can't get enough of them. 

They eventually pull apart, lying there while Stiles catches Derek up on the few days of news he missed, until he thinks Derek has fallen asleep. 

"I could get used to this," Stiles mumbles, almost asleep himself. "Not... not  _this_ , hospital shit, but this... this _us_." _  
_

"Me too," Derek says quietly, tightening the grip he has on Stiles' hand. "I like the sound of that. Of us."

The word _us_ rings through Stiles' head as they lay there on the edge of sleep, happy and content with each other. It feels right, he thinks to himself. _They_ feel right.

 

#

 

**Fin.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys, I hope you like it. 
> 
> Content warning for hospital scenes : Derek is in a medically induced coma due to a car accident, but when Stiles goes to see him they're already starting to take him out of it. He's hooked up to a ventilator and there's brief mention of how a ventilator is removed but nothing graphic. Also a mention of IV's, as well as the use of restraints on a patient as when Derek first started to come out his coma he was confused and tried to remove his IV's. This all happened offscreen.
> 
> I have never been in a coma, so any medical facts I have stated are just to the best of my knowledge with google research, and I'm sorry for anyone in the medical profession who was wincing at that last chapter. 
> 
> [(I'm on tumblr)](http://captainscruffywolf.tumblr.com)


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